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See Page 134 




FOUR LITTLE BLOSSOMS 

THROUGH 

THE HOLIDAYS 


BY 

MABEL C. HAWLEY 

AUTHOR OF “four LITTLE BLOSSOMS AT BROOKSIDE FARM," 
“four LITTLE BLOSSOMS ON APPLE TREE ISLAND,” ETC 


Illustrated By 

ROBERT GASTON HERBERT 


NEW YORK 

GEORGE SULLY & COMPANY 






FOUR LITTLE BLOSSOMS SERIES 

By MABEL C. HAWLEY 
i2mo. Cloth. Illustrated. 

FOUR LITTLE BLOSSOMS AT BROOK- 
SIDE FARM 

FOUR LITTLE BLOSSOMS AT OAK HILL 
SCHOOL 

FOUR LITTLE BLOSSOMS AND THEIR 
WINTER FUN 

FOUR LITTLE BLOSSOMS ON APPLE 
TREE ISLAND 

FOUR LITTLE BLOSSOMS THROUGH 
THE HOLIDAYS 

GEORGE SULLY & COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS ; NEW YORK 


Copyright, 1922, by 
George Sully & Company 

Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 


MADE IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 




CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I 

Twaddles Makes a Gift . 


• 



• 

PAGB 

7 

II 

The Thank Offerings . 


• 

• 

• 

# 

^9 

III 

Four Grateful Children 


• 

• 

# 

• 

31 

IV 

Driving with Daddy . , 


• 

• 



43 

V 

The Football Game . 


• 

• 

• 

• 

55 

VI 

Bobby Hears Bad News . 


• 

• 

r« 

• 

67 

VII 

The Magic Fountain . 


• 

• 

• 

• 

79 

VIII 

Christmas At School 


• 

• 

• 

• 

91 

IX 

Company Comes . . . 


• 

• 

• 

• 

103 

X 

Christmas At Home . 


• 

• 

• 

• 

115 

XI 

Mr. White .... 


• 

• 


• 

127 

XII 

Running Away . . . 


• 

• 

• 

• 

139 

XIII 

Charlotte Gordon’s Party 


• 

• 

• 

• 

151 

XIV 

Dot Reads a Story . . 



• 


• 

163 

XV 

Mr. Bennett Shakes Hands 



• 


173 








• A 


4 


I 


I 



I 







FOUR LITTLE BLOSSOMS 
THROUGH THE HOLIDAYS 

CHAPTER I 

TWADDLES MAKES A GIFT 

W HERE’S the soap, Norah?” demanded 
Meg importantly. ‘‘The soap and the 
scrubbing brush and a clean towel, please. I 
need them very much.” 

Norah looked at her calmly. 

“And why do you be wanting to take a scrub- 
bing brush and the soap down cellar?” she 
asked. “What are you all up to down there, 
an3^ay? I can’t get Twaddles to go to the 
store for me, and Dot has been poking about in 
the pantry till she has me wild. What are you 
doing anyway?” 

“Why, you know, Norah, I told you last 
week,” replied Meg. “We’re getting the 

7 


8 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

Thanksgiving stuff ready to take to school; all 
the children bring something good to eat and 
then it is collected and the poor people have a 
Thanksgiving Day dinner.” 

‘Well, IVe been poor in my time,” said 
Norah, tying on her clean, white apron and pre- 
paring to start her dinner, “but never have I 
been so starved that I could eat soap or, for that 
matter, a scrubbing brush or a towel, even if 
’twas a clean one.” 

Meg’s blue eyes widened in surprise, and then 
she laughed. 

“Oh, Norah, how funny you are!” she cried. 
“You know I don’t want the soap for the poor 
people to eat! I want to wash the potatoes for 
them!” 

And then it was Nor ah’s turn to laugh. She 
laughed till the tears came in her eyes and she 
had to take her clean apron to wipe them away. 

“Meg, Meg, you’ll be the end of me yet!” 
laughed Norah. “Who ever heard of scrubbing 
potatoes with soap and water and using a towel 
to dry ’em? Won’t Sam snicker when I tell 
him!” 


Twaddles Makes a Gift 9 

“I don’t see anything funny about that,” said 
Meg, edging toward the cellar door. want 
to take nice, clean potatoes and you wash those 
we eat, you know you do, Norah.” 

^‘Yes, child, that I do,” admitted Norah kindly 
and her voice was sober though her eyes still 
twinkled. “But water and a good stiff brush 
will be all your potatoes need. They’ll dry of 
themselves and you won’t need the towel; and 
the soap would spoil ’em completely if the poor 
people should be wistful to have ’em baked.” 

“Meg, what you doing? Did you get the 
soap yet?” shouted Bobby from the bottom of 
the cellar steps. 

“Here’s the brush,” said Norah, hastily giving 
Meg the small vegetable brush from the shelf 
over the sink. “Now be off with you and don’t 
let me find water all over the laundry floor 
either; drowning Dot in water isn’t going to 
help the poor folks.” 

Meg ran down the steps and joined the other 
children who were exceedingly busy. Bobby 
was sorting over the apples in the apple bin 
and trying to keep Twaddles from eating the 


10 Four Little Blossoms Through the* Holidays 

perfect ones he selected. Dot had filled the 
laundry tubs with hot water and was only wait- 
ing Meg’s return to put in the turnips and po- 
tatoes to be thoroughly washed. As for Twad- 
dles, he was walking up and down before the 
preserve closet, munching apples, and trying to 
decide which jar of preserves he would choose. 
Mother Blossom had promised each of the 
children one jar of jelly, jam or canned fruit, 
to take to school. 

‘^And Dot and Twaddles may send something, 
too,” she had said, when the twins as usual de- 
clared that they never had any of the fun be- 
cause they were too young to go to school. 
“Meg and Bobby will take your thank-offering 
to school for you, twinnies.” 

It was warm and dry in the cellar and the 
electric light made it bright even though it was 
already dark outside at half -past four that No- 
vember afternoon. The glowing heater occu- 
pied one end of the cemented room and the 
laundry tubs the other. In between were the 
vegetable and fruit bins and closets where food 


Twaddles Makes a Gift ii 

that would keep through the winter had been 
stored. 

‘‘Norah says we don’t use soap on the pota- 
toes,” reported Meg to Dot. ‘‘Maybe we 
shouldn’t have hot water, either.” 

“Course wc need hot water,” insisted Dot, 
who was already splashed from head to foot. 
“Hot water is the only way to get ’em clean.” 

“There’s Sam — ^we’ll ask him,” said Bobby 
as someone opened the door of the cellar and 
came in, bringing a blast of cold, fresh air. 

“Well, you look happy,” smiled Sam Layton, 
who ran the car and mowed the lawn in sum- 
mer and took care of the heater in winter for 
the Blossom family. “What mischief are you 
into now?” 

“Sam, don’t you wash turnips and things like 
that in hot water?” demanded Dot earnestly. 

“So that’s it,” cried Sam. “I knew, soon as I 
saw the cloud of steam from the laundry tubs, 
that something was going on. Are you count- 
ing on washing vegetables in Nor ah’s pet tubs 
and in that boiling hot water?” 

“They’re for the poor folks,” explained 


12 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

Bobby, polishing an apple by the simple method 
of rubbing it on his stocking. “We have to take 
’em to school tomorrow and we want them to be 
clean.” 

“Very nice and quite correct,” approved Sam 
seriously. “But somehow it doesn’t fit in with 
my sanitary ideas to wash vegetables where the 
clothes are done or polish apples on stockings, 
Bobby.” 

“I meant to get a rag,” said Bobby quickly. 
“Nor ah will give me one. What shall we do to 
the potatoes, Sam?” 

Sam explained that he thought the best thing 
to do was to borrow a pan from Norah and scrub 
the vegetables with the brush in water not too 
cold for their hands and yet not hot enough to 
shrivel the skin of the turnips and potatoes. 

“How you going to get your stuff over to 
school?” he asked, when Bobby had gone after 
the pan and returned with both pan and Norah, 
who declared that she knew she would have to 
help them. “Potatoes weigh heavy, when you 
try to carry them.” 

“Daddy said you’d take us in the car,” re- 


Twaddles Makes a Gift 13 

plied Meg. “You will, won’t you, Sam? We 
have potatoes and carrots and turnips and ap- 
ples and four jars of fruit to take.” 

“Then you certainly can’t walk,” said Sam, 
shaking the heater and raising his voice above 
the racket he made. “I guess I can take you 
before your father is ready to go in the morn- 
ing.” 

When the vegetables were all nicely washed, 
and the laundry floor mopped up, and Dot 
placed before the heater to dry off, since she re- 
fused to go upstairs and get into another dress, 
and the apples polished to Bobby’s liking, then 
it was time to choose the cans of fruit. 

The twins could not make up their minds. 
Dot wavered between her two favorites, 
blackberry jam and orange marmalade, and 
Twaddles insisted on peach butter and mustard 
pickles. 

“Mother said one,” Meg reminded him. 
Meg had her own jar of canned pears she had 
filled herself and labeled with a little red label. 
“Filled by Meg, October 2,” Mother Blossom 
had written, and Meg was eager to give the jar 


14 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

away because, as she said, it was something she 
had done herself. 

‘Well, pickles don’t count,” argued Twad- 
dles. “Pickles are extra.” 

Bobby had chosen his favorite strawberry jam 
and he was anxious to go upstairs and see if din- 
ner wasn’t almost ready. 

“Hurry up. Twaddles!” he urged his small 
brother. “We can’t wait all night. Which do 
you want. Dot?” 

“Blackberry jam,” said Dot, shutting her eyes 
and gulping as she always did when she had to 
make a choice. 

“Children, dinner will be ready in a minute!” 
Mother Blossom called down to them. 

“Now, you see,” scolded Bobby. “Take the 
pickles. Twaddles, and put them over there 
with the apples. I have to lock up the closet.” 

Bobby took the jar of peach butter out of 
Twaddles’ hands and put it back on the shelf. 
Then he locked the door of the preserve closet 
and put the key in his pocket to give his mother. 

Twaddles scowled. 

“I didn’t want pickles,” he said. “You’re 


Twaddles Makes a Gift 15 

mean, Bobby Blossom. I hope the poor folks 
will throw away your old apples.” 

Twaddles never could stay cross very long, 
though, and before dinner was over, he was teas- 
ing with Dot to be allowed to go to the school 
the next day with Meg and Bobby. 

“Please, Daddy,” pleaded the twins. “We’re 
sending things for the poor people to eat and 
can’t we go and see them?” 

“They won’t be there,” said Meg hastily. 
“The Charity Bureau comes and gets the stuff 
and gives it to the poor people; don’t they, 
Bobby?” 

Bobby nodded and Father Blossom laughed. 

“Now, Twaddles, don’t begin to see a nice 
comfortable walnut bureau like the one in 
Mother’s room going around collecting food 
for the poor folk,” he said teasingly. “I can see 
your big eyes beginning to wonder what a 
Charity Bureau is. That is only a name for the 
kind men and women who go around taking care 
of hungry and cold people.” 

But though Dot continued to tease to be al- 
lowed to go to school the next day. Twaddles’ 


I 


1 6 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

busy little brain kept thinking about the 
“Charity Bureau.” He couldn’t understand — 
Twaddles was only four years old — exactly why 
men and women who collected food for hungry 
people should be called a bureau, and the more 
he thought about it, the more tangled up he 
became. When bedtime came for him and Dot 
he was still puzzling over it and it was not till 
the next morning that he decided what he 
should do. 

Meg and Bobby were seated on the front seat 
of the car with Sam Layton, and the vegetables 
and apples and fruit jars were carefully ar- 
ranged on the back seat, when Twaddles came 
running out of the house. Mother Blossom had 
said the twins were not to go to school — much to 
Meg’s and Bobby’s relief — and Meg at first 
thought Twaddles was determined to have his 
own way. 

“Go back. Twaddles! Mother said you 
couldn’t go,” she cried, when Twaddles 
bounced on the running board. 

“I’m not going! I brought you something!” 


Twaddles Makes a Gift 17 

gasped Twaddles, breathless from running. 
^‘It’s for the Charity Bureau.” 

Meg took the little box, wrapped in white 
tissue paper, and Sam started the car. The 
twins stood and waved to Bobby and Meg as 
though they were going on a voyage instead of 
to school where they went every school day 
morning, and Meg did not look at the package 
till Sam suggested that it might be well to see 
what was in it. 

“You never can tell what Twaddles is going 
to do,” observed Sam sagely, “and if I were you, 
Vd want to know what I was taking to the 
Bureau for him.” 

Meg unwrapped the box while Bobby and 
Sam stared curiously. When she lifted the 
cover, there lay a bottle of cologne ! 

“It’s his own bottle, the one he bought with 
his own money and Daddy laughed at him so,” 
said Meg. “Twaddles does love cologne! And 
why do you suppose he wants to give it to the 
poor people?” 

Sam Layton chuckled. 

“Don’t you see, this isn’t for the poor folks,” 


1 8 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

he explained. “Twaddles said it was for the 
‘Charity Bureau’ — the poor kid has the bureau 
idea in his mind in spite of what your father told 
him. Pretty nice of him to give away his own 
cologne, though, isn’t it?” 

Nora had told Sam how Father Blossom had 
tried to explain what the Charity Bureau was 
to Twaddles the night before, and Meg and 
Bobby remembered, too. They laughed a little 
at poor Twaddles but it was at the idea of the 
cologne bottle to stand on the Charity Bureau, 
and not at the little boy himself. 

“We won’t make fun of him a bit, will we, 
Bobby?” said Meg, as the car stopped before 
the school. “Twaddles was as good as gold to 
give away his own bottle of cologne, and per- 
haps someone will like to have it.” 


CHAPTER II 


THE THANK OFFERINGS 

S AM helped carry the vegetables into the 
school and we’ll leave him for a minute, 
“toting” as he called it, the potatoes and shiny 
apples up the walk, and introduce you to the 
Blossom children. 

You may already know them and if you have 
met them before you’ll remember that Meg and 
Bobby had other and longer names, although 
their best friends often forgot that Meg was 
named Margaret for her mother, and that 
Robert Hayward Blossom was Bobby’s real 
name, the one he would use when he grew up 
and went in business with Father Blossom. 
The four-year-old twins, too. Dot and Twaddles, 
when they were old enough to go to school 
would be written down on the teacher’s roll 
book as Dorothy Anna and Arthur Gifford 

Blossom. In case you do not know, we’ll tell 
19 


20 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

you that these four children lived in the town 
of Oak Hill, with their father and mother, and 
with Norah who had lived with them for years, 
and with Sam Layton who lived over the garage 
and was right-hand man to Father Blossom. 

The first book about the Blossoms describes 
the lovely summer they spent at Brookside 
Farm, visiting Aunt Polly, who was Mother 
Blossom’s sister. The friends they made there 
and the fun they had are all told of in “Four 
Little Blossoms at Brookside Farm.” The chil- 
dren would have been sorry to leave Aunt Polly 
and the farm if there had not been other exciting 
days to look forward to. Meg and Bobby had 
to go to school, of course, and their first winter 
in the school room, and the persistent efforts 
of Dot and Twaddles to go to school, too, though 
they were not old enough to be enrolled in any 
class, and their final success, is related in the 
second volume called, “Four Little Blossoms at 
Oak Hill School.” The third book about the 
Blossoms tells of the blue turquoise locket Meg 
lost and how it was found, and how even Meg 
and Bobby themselves were lost, though they 


The Thank Offerings 2i 

were also found. The children had some ex- 
citing days in this book, “Four Little Blossoms 
and Their Winter Fun,” but all the excitement 
ended happily. 

As soon as school closed in the spring, away 
went the Blossom family for a good time. What 
happened to them is told in the fourth book 
called, “Four Little Blossoms on Apple Tree 
Island.” Living on an island is great fun and 
the little Blossoms enjoyed every day of the long 
summer. It did seem as though they were 
always finding something, and they helped to 
find a whole missing family while they were on 
Apple Tree Island and also helped to rescue a 
girl and two younger children who were “lost” 
on another island. They found a great friend in 
Captain Jenks who ran the motor boat, and 
they might have stayed happily on the island the 
whole year round if the same important busi- 
ness that had brought them home from Brook- 
side Farm the summer before had not called 
them back to Oak Hill the middle of Septem- 
ber. School opened, you see. 

Back came the Blossom family and Norah 


22 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

was very glad to see them. So was Sam Layton, 
who had been working on a farm in Canada 
during the summer, and had taken Philip, 
Meg’s dog, with him. Sam had had enough of 
Canada, he said, and he liked Oak Hill much 
better; he had found no one in Canada, he de- 
clared, who could cook like Norah. 

Between going to school and playing after 
school and taking care of Philip and Annabel 
Lee, the cat, and running errands and going 
with Father Blossom for rides in the car, the 
days passed swiftly and, almost before they 
realized it. Thanksgiving Day was just around 
the corner. And at Thanksgiving time, the 
children in school were asked to bring donations 
of food which were taken in charge by the 
Charity Bureau and by them given to people 
who otherwise might not have any dinner on 
the holiday. 

And now that you know all about the four 
little Blossoms, we’ll go back to where we left 
Sam carrying the potatoes and apples into the 
school. 

‘Ts that all?” he asked, when he had cleared 


The Thank Offerings 23 

the back seat of the boxes and bundles. “All 
right, then, I must go right back for your 
father. Don’t forget to see that the Bureau gets 
the cologne, Meg,” and he grinned. 

Sam drove off in the car and Meg and Bobby 
ran down the stone steps into the basement of 
the school where the thank-offerings were to be 
stored. Once it had been the custom of the 
school to arrange everything in neat rows on 
the platform in the assembly hall, but after a 
handsome pyramid of apples had shifted during 
the opening prayer and had bumped — one at a 
time — down over the edge of the platform and 
into the aisles and, another time, a jar of pre- 
serves had burst and stained the green velvet 
carpet, it was wisely decided that everything 
should be carried into the basement and kept 
there. 

“Oh, look at all the stuff!” cried Bobby when 
he saw the collection of gifts spread out on the 
plain wooden tables which were used for lunch 
tables on the days when it was too stormy to go 
home at noon. “Look, Meg, someone even 
brought a turkey!” 


( 


24 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

Sure enough, there was a fat turkey, neatly 
folded into a basket lined with orange crepe 
paper. One of the pupils who lived on a farm 
had brought him as her thank-offering and if 
the fortunate family who found that turkey in 
their basket Thanksgiving Eve admired the 
gift as much as the boys and girls of Oak Hill 
school did, there could have been no doubt of 
their thankfulness. 

Mr. Carter, the principal of the grammar and 
primary grades, and Miss Wright, the vice- 
principal of the primary school, were busy 
taking the things the children brought and find- 
ing places for them on the tables. 

“What fine, clean potatoes!” said Miss 
Wright, smiling at Meg. “You scrubbed those 
well, didn’t you, dear? I’m so glad when the 
children take special pains to make their gifts 
attractive, for I believe the pleasure is doubled 
for the giver and the receiver. What is that 
in your hand, Meg? Something for the thank- 
offering?” 

Meg had forgotten Twaddles’ bottle of co- 
logne which she held tightly in her hand. 


The Thank Offerings 25 

“My little brother, Twaddles, sent it,” she 
explained shyly, blushing a little. “It’s — it’s 
cologne, and he meant it for the Charity Bu- 
reau. He’s only four years old and he doesn’t 
understand about the Bureau very well.” 

Mr. Carter laughed and so did Miss Wright, 
and the children who were listening giggled. 
But in a moment Mr. Carter put out his hand. 

“Let me take it, Meg,” he said gently. “I 
know just the place for it. One of the Bureau 
workers told me yesterday about a poor old lady 
who has no one to love and take care of her. 
She sits all day long in a ward with seven other 
old ladies and we are going to make up a special 
little basket for her because she is ill. It will 
be a pretty basket with a little tea and candy 
and other dainties old ladies like in it and on 
the very top we’ll put Twaddles’ bottle of co- 
logne. How will that be?” 

“And I’ll put a bow of cheerful red ribbon 
on it,” promised Miss Wright. “Be sure and 
tell Twaddles, Meg, that we think it was lovely 
of him to send such a gift.” 

“He’ll be — he’ll be thankfulT stammered 


26 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

Meg and then Mr. Carter and Miss Wright and 
the children laughed again, but as the principal 
said, proper laughing was good for them all. 

“Now upstairs with you, every one,” he said 
presently, when everything was in order, “the 
assembly bell will ring in five minutes and we 
don’t want any stragglers. Tim Roon, put that 
apple back; I’m surprised I should have to 
speak to anyone about touching the gifts meant 
for the poor and sick.” 

Tim Roon, a boy in Bobby’s room, though two 
or three years older than Bobby who was seven 
and a half, tossed the apple he had taken from 
the table angrily back and it fell to the floor 
and rolled under the table. Bobby crawled 
under and brought it out and dusted it off care- 
fully with his clean handkerchief. Then he put 
it with the other apples and went upstairs with 
Meg who had waited for him. 

“Won’t Twaddles be glad about the cologne?” 
said Meg happily. “I do think Mr. Carter is 
just as nicel” 

“Yes, he is,” agreed Bobby, “and you could 
see he remembers Twaddles. So does Miss 


The Thank Offerings 27 

Wright. Well, I’ll see you at recess, Meg.” 

Twaddles and Dot had paid a visit to the 
school the term before and it was not likely that 
anyone who had met the twins would ever for- 
get them. Mr. Carter did not and neither did 
Miss Wright. As for Miss Mason, who had 
taught Bobby and Meg last year and in whose 
class Meg was this term, she was always asking 
about Twaddles and Dot, and she declared she 
quite looked forward to the time when they 
should be old enough to come to school. 

Meg missed Bobby very much and often 
wished that they could go through school in the 
same grade. But he was a class ahead of her 
and they saw each other only at recess, once the 
school day had started. This morning, as soon 
as the recess gong sounded, a stream of children 
headed for the basement to inspect the thank- 
offerings again. 

‘‘What’s that, Edward?” Bobby asked a fat 
little boy who had dashed to the basement door 
and came back lugging something yellow and 
round. “What’s that for?” 

Edward Kurler was in Meg’s class. He was 


28 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

a good-natured, not particularly quick child, 
and very ready to do whatever anyone else sug- 
gested. When he played ^‘tag’’ with the other 
boys, Edward was apt to be “it” the greater 
part of the game; but he was so good-natured 
he never was known to be cross about it. 

“I brought a pumpkin,” he explained, his 
own face as round and shiny as the pumpkin 
he carried. “I didn’t have time to bring it in 
’fore school opened. I guess the poor folks will 
like a pumpkin — they can make pies out of it.” 

Tim Roon came up to the pumpkin and 
looked at it closely. 

“Why, it’s a jack-o-lantern!” he said in sur- 
prise. 

“Yes, it is,” nodded Edward. “I had it left 
over from Hallowe’en. My uncle made it 
for me.” 

“But you haven’t any candle in it,” said Tim. 
“I never heard of a pumpkin lantern without a 
candle, did you, Charlie?” 

Charlie Black was Tim Roon’s chum and the 
two boys usually helped each other when they 
planned any mischief. 


The Thank Offerings 29 

‘‘No, I never heard of a pumpkin without a 
candle,” said Charlie seriously. “And I don’t 
think you ought to give one away ’less you have 
a candle for it, Edward.” 

Bobby and Meg leaned up against the table 
and stared at Edward anxiously. They knew a 
candle should go inside a pumpkin lantern, too. 
The other pupils began to think Edward had 
made a mistake and that his thank-offering had 
something very wrong with it. Edward felt 
that way himself. 

“I’ll lend you a candle, if you like,” offered 
Tim Roon. “Of course I’ll have to have it 
back, but you can have it till school closes.” 

“Oh, give it to him,” said Charlie Black. 
“Light it for him and let’s see how the lantern 
looks. Maybe it isn’t a good lantern.” 

“All right, I will,” agreed Tim, his black 
eyes snapping with naughtiness. “Wait a min- 
ute, Edward, and I’ll show you how to do things 
right.” 

Mr. Carter had gone over to the grammar 
school to see how their thank-offerings were 
coming in, and Miss Wright was busy in her 


30 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

office. There was no one in the basement to stop 
Tim Roon as he pulled what looked like a red 
candle from his pocket and fitted it in the hol- 
low pumpkin. He stood the lantern in the 
center of a pile of apples and took a match from 
his pocket. None of the boys were allowed to 
carry matches and they looked at him in sur- 
prise. 

“Now I’ll light it for you,” said Tim, touch- 
ing the match to the candle he had placed inside. 

Meg leaned forward to watch and her pretty 
hair was almost touching the pumpkin when 
Bobby shouted, “Look out!” and pulled her 
back. 

Then with a loud noise the pumpkin blew 
into many pieces, scattering in all directions and 
sending the apples rolling to the floor 1 


CHAPTER III 


FOUR GRATEFUL CHILDREN 

J UST as the pumpkin burst, two things hap- 
pened; Mr. Carter stepped inside the door 
and the gong rang to announce the end of 
recess. 

Tim Roon shot for the door and the children 
followed. Tim was eager to escape the prin- 
cipal and the others did not want to be late in 
returning to their classrooms. But Mr. Carter 
stood in the doorway and did not move to let 
them pass. 

“What was that noise I heard just now?” he 
asked. “It sounded like an explosion.” 

No one answered and Mr. Carter turned to 
Miss Wright who had come downstairs to see 
why so many pupils were absent from their 
rooms. 

“Say to the teachers, please,” he said, “that I 
31 


32 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

am detaining the children; they will come up 
presently.” 

“Oh, dear!” whispered Meg to Bobby, “now 
he’s going to scold.” 

The principal heard her and he smiled a 
little. 

“Not scold, Meg, unless someone deserves it,” 
he said pleasantly. “What was that noise I 
heard?” 

“The pumpkin blew up,” replied Meg un- 
comfortably.” 

“The pumpkin blew up!” repeated Mr. 
Carter in astonishment. “Whose pumpkin? 
What made it blow up?” 

Meg was silent. 

“Bobby,” said Mr. Carter, “was it your 
pumpkin?” 

“No, sir,” answered Bobby. 

“Please, Mr. Carter,” said Edward bravely. 
“It was my pumpkin. I brought it for the poor 
people. But it was only a hollow one.” 

“Well, why did you want to blow it up?” 
asked Mr. Carter, puzzled. “And what did 
you do to it to make it blow up, Edward?” 


Four Grateful Children 33 

‘‘I didn’t do anything to it,” protested 
Edward. 

‘‘I want to know and I want to know at once, 
what caused that pumpkin to explode,” said the 
principal sternly and Tim Roon wished sud- 
denly that he had had nothing to do with it. 
‘^Edward!” 

‘^Yes, sir?” poor Edward replied faintly. 

^What made your pumpkin explode?” asked 
Mr. Carter. 

candle,” said Edward, who really be- 
lieved that Tim Roon had put a candle in his 
pumpkin. “They said a hollow pumpkin had 
to have a candle in it.” 

“Nonsense,” declared Mr. Carter. “No can- 
dle ever exploded. Who put the candle in your 
pumpkin?” 

Bobby thought “telling tales” under any cir- 
cumstances, the most dreadful thing anyone 
could do. He did hope that Edward would not 
give Tim away. Tim had the same hope, but 
he did not trust the fat boy. Instead, he leaned 
against him and pinched him. 


34 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

“You know what will happen to you, if you 
tell,” he whispered warningly. 

“Ouch!” cried Edward, but the principal’s 
sharp eyes had seen Tim. 

“So you’re the culprit, Tim,” he said severely. 
“I might have known. What did you put in 
the pumpkin? Tell me the truth.” 

“A firecracker,” replied Tim sullenly. 

“Did you light it?” persisted Mr. Carter. 

Tim nodded. He knew what was coming. 

“Very well,” said the principal. “I will wait 
for you, Tim, while you put the scattered apples 
back as you found them and carry out the pieces 
of pumpkin. Then you and I will go up to the 
office and have a little talk. I think your 
father will be surprised to hear that you are 
carrying matches in your pocket. You may go 
back to your rooms, children, and please go 
quietly.” 

It was all very well to tell then to go quietly, 
but such a buzzing of tongues as sounded 
in the halls and corridors as the boys and girls 
went upstairs! They talked about how fright- 
ened they had been when the pumpkin ex- 


Four Grateful Children 35 

ploded and they talked about what might hap- 
pen to Tim and they wondered what made him 
think of lighting a firecracker and how Mr. 
Carter had happened to come just in time to 
hear the noise of the explosion. 

“I think it was a silly thing to do,” said Bobby 
indignantly. “Meg was so close to that pump- 
kin her hair would have been burned if I hadn’t 
pulled her back. And now Edward hasn’t even 
a jack-o-lantern to give the poor people.” 

School closed at one o’clock that day because 
the next day was Thanksgiving, and of course 
as soon as Meg and Bobby reached home the 
twins demanded to know about the thank-oflFer- 
ings. Twaddles was delighted to hear about 
his bottle of cologne and he said that he was sure 
it would look nice on the Bureau. As Meg 
observed, there was no use in trying to explain 
that again to him, so she didn’t try. 

When they told of the pumpkin Edward 
Kurler had brought and of the trouble Tim 
Roon had made for himself. Twaddles listened 
breathlessly, but Dot turned up her small nose. 

“Huh!” she said scornfully. “I think Ed- 


36 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

ward is a very queer boy. Nobody could eat 
a hollow pumpkin, could they, Norah?” 

‘‘Not a very hollow one,” admitted Norah, 
“but neither can I make tarts from a hollow 
bowl. Dot. If you don’t stop ‘tasting’ pretty 
soon, we’ll have no tarts for tomorrow.” 

The four little Blossoms were in the kitchen, 
helping Norah who was very busy getting ready 
for the Thanksgiving Day dinner. Bobby and 
Meg had found the twins hovering around the 
kitchen table when they came home from school 
and they had had their lunch in the kitchen, for 
Mother Blossom was in the city for the day and 
Father Blossom seldom came home to lunch. 

“And now we’ll help you,” said Meg, as soon 
as they had finished lunch. So Norah had four 
helpers for the rest of the afternoon. 

“I’d as lief have four whistling winds to 
help me rake leaves,” said Sam, coming in for 
a drink of water and finding Norah surrounded 
by willing hands and exceedingly willing little 
mouths. “But then, ’pears to me you are man- 
aging to turn out some work, Norah,” and Sam 
helped himself to a couple of sugar cookies from 


Four Grateful Children 


37 


a golden-brown pile left to cool on a clean cloth. 

^^You’re as bad as the children,” sighed 
Norah, but she gave Sam two more cookies be- 
fore she told him to ^‘be off.” 

‘‘Sam says he’s thankful it hasn’t snowed yet,” 
reported Meg at the dinner table that night 
“He says he wants to finish painting the garage 
roof before it snows.” 

“What are you thankful for, Meg?” asked 
Father Blossom suddenly. 

“Tarts!” cried Dot, before Meg could answer, 
managing to tip her glass of milk into her lap. 

“Dot, you must learn to be more careful,” 
said Mother Blossom. “I suppose I ought to 
be thankful it wasn’t cocoa you upset And you 
answered when Daddy was speaking to Meg.” 

“I can’t think in a hurry,” apologized Meg, 
while Dot was being mopped up with a clean 
napkin. “Could you wait a minute. Daddy?” 

“I’ll ask you again tomorrow morning,” said 
Father Blossom. “I’ll expect each one of you 
to be able to tell me then why you are thankful. 
Think it over carefully and then you’ll be ready. 

“Why am I thankful?” said Meg to herself. 


38 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

over and over that evening till bedtime came. 
“Why am I thankful, I wonder?” 

“Oh, Daddy!” Bobby called down over the 
banisters, after he was supposed to be in bed. 
“Daddy! Is it just the same to think why you 
are thankful and what you are thankful for?” 

“Just about the same,” answered Father 
Blossom. “If you think about what you are 
thankful for you’ll soon know why you are 
thankful. Do you understand?” 

“I — I guess so,” said Bobby doubtfully and 
he went back to bed. 

In the morning the four little Blossoms found 
a chocolate turkey at each plate and Mother 
Blossom explained that they were a present 
from Daddy. 

“Well, who can tell me for what they’re 
thankful?” asked Father Blossom, as Norah 
brought in the oatmeal. 

“I know. Daddy!” cried Twaddles. “I’m 
thankful I found Bobby’s knife.” 

“You found my knife?” said Bobby, frown- 
ing. “You found my knife? Why, my knife 


Four Grateful Children 39 

isn’t lost — I left in the top drawer of my desk 
in my room.” 

‘‘Yes, I know you did,” admitted Twaddles, 
“and I borrowed it to whittle a new mast for 
my boat and I couldn’t remember where I left 
it. But Norah found it on the back stoop,” con- 
cluded Twaddles cheerfully. 

“If you don’t leave my things alone!” began 
Bobby wrathfully. “I’ll— I’ll ” 

“Now we won’t have any quarrels Thanksgiv- 
ing morning,” said Father Blossom quietly. 
“Bobby, suppose you tell me what you are 
thankful for.” 

“For turkey,” said Bobby promptly, forget- 
ting to be angry at Twaddles as he remembered 
the plump bird he had seen hanging in the 
“cold room” where Norah kept her food sup- 
plies and the refrigerator. 

“I’m thankful for the maple sugar Aunt 
Polly sent us,” cried Dot. “You said we could 
have a piece after breakfast. Mother.” 

“Meg?” asked Father Blossom. “What are 
you thinking of, dear?” 

Meg raised her blue eyes and smiled sunnily. 


40 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

thankful Mr. and Mrs. Harley and Dick 
and Herbert found each other,” she said simply* 

Meg, you see, remembered the Harleys who 
had once lived on Apple Tree Island and the 
trouble and sorrow they had known when the 
family was separated. 

‘T think we’re all thankful for the Harleys,’^ 
said Mother Blossom, “and I’m thankful for 
my whole Blossom family this morning!” 

Thanksgiving dinner was to be at one o’clock 
and little Miss Florence, the dressmaker, was 
coming, and Mrs. Jordan and her lame son 
Paul, for whom the four little Blossoms had 
once given a fair. 

“If we can’t have Aunt Polly, or any of the 
dear farm folk, at least we can make a happy 
day for someone else,” Mother Blossom had 
said, when she sent Bobby to invite Miss Flor- 
ence and Mrs. Jordan. 

“And after dinner. I’ll take everyone for a 
ride,” promised Father Blossom, “that is, if it 
doesn’t snow.” 

So the four children spent their morning be- 
tween the kitchen, where Nor ah and Mother 


Four Grateful Children 


41 

Blossom were cooking the most delicious smell- 
ing things to eat, and the garage, where Father 
Blossom and Sam were going over the car to 
make sure that it would be in good order for 
the drive that afternoon. 

^^It’s my turn to sit up with you, isn’t it, Sam?” 
asked Dot eagerly. “You always take Meg, 
but it is my turn, really it is.” 

“Your father is going to drive,” replied Sam 
to this. “I’m going to lend Norah a hand with 
all the dinner dishes. You can argue with him 
about riding on the front seat. Dot.” 

Though Father Blossom had bought the car 
the spring before, the four little Blossoms still 
argued about whose turn it was to ride with the 
driver nearly every time they went for a ride. 
They had a system of “taking turns,” but this 
did not always prevent friction because some- 
times the twins both squeezed into the front seat 
and then neither one was willing to admit that 
“counted.” As a rule, though, they settled the 
dispute amiably and without any suggestion 
from Sam or Father Blosom. 

“Mother says we must come in and put on our 


42 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

best dresses, Dot/’ said Meg, coming back to 
the garage from a trip to the kitchen. “The 
table is all set and it’s most time for the com- 
pany to come.” 

“All right, I’m coming,” Dot answered, 
brushing past Father Blossom who was washing 
his hands at the lavatory in one corner of the 
garage. 

“Wait a minute. Dot,” he said, catching hold 
of her blouse. “What on earth have you in 
your pockets, child?” 


CHAPTER IV 


DRIVING WITH DADDY 

D ot wore a blue serge sailor suit and she 
had four pockets, two in the skirt and two 
in the blouse, and in addition there were two 
pockets in the blue reefer coat she wore. 
Apparently all six pockets were stuffed full of 
something. 

“Mother said you shouldn’t put things in the 
pockets of your cloth dress,” Meg told her little 
sister. “They get stuck up and gummy and she 
can’t clean them.” 

“Well, I thought I was going to wear this 
dress all day,” explained Dot, looking earnestly 
at Father Blossom, “so I wanted some raisins in 
case anyone was hungry while we’re out driving 
this afternoon.” 

Dot showed them her coat pockets stuffed with 
raisins, packed in so tightly that they made two 
hard lumps. It was these hard lumps Father 

43 


44 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

Blossom had felt when she brushed past him. 

‘What’s that in your blouse?” asked Bobby. 

“My choc’late turkey,” said Dot. Alas, the 
chocolate had melted and the turkey was now 
sadly mixed with blue serge and red flannel. 

“What’s in the other pocket?” suggested 
Twaddles. 

Dot looked a little confused. 

“Cookies,” she said. “I thought Norah 
wouldn’t mind. I only took three.” 

“And both her skirt pockets are stuffed full 
of nuts!” announced Meg, who had been exam- 
ining them. “Salted nuts. I’ll bet you didn’t 
ask Mother if you could have them, either.” 

“Well, I was going to afterward,” said Dot, 
half crying. “I didn’t eat a single thing. I 
was saving them for folks to have this after- 
noon. So there!” 

“Run along in and get ready for dinner,” 
directed Father Blossom, trying not to look at 
Sam, lest he laugh. “Next time, ask Mother, 
Dot; you are old enough to know you mustn’t 
help yourself to food without asking.” 

Mother Blossom sighed a little over the 


45 


Driving With Daddy 

stuffed pockets, for Dot’s dresses seemed to be 
always in need of cleaning and repairing. But 
she said that she knew her little girl had not 
meant to be careless and that no one should be 
scolded on Thanksgiving Day. 

“And I don’t believe even you will be hungry 
after you eat the dinner Norah has for us,” said 
Mother Blossom smiling as she tied Dot’s pretty 
new red hair-ribbon on the thick dark hair. 
“There is the bell — suppose you run down. Dot, 
and that will save Norah a trip to the door.” 

Dot, looking very neat and pretty in her red 
and white dotted challis dress, danced down- 
stairs to let Miss Florence in. Dot had such 
dark hair and eyes that all shades of red just 
suited her. Meg’s frock was blue and white 
challis and her hair-ribbon matched her blue 
eyes. 

By the time old Mrs. Jordan and the lame 
Paul had arrived and had warmed their cold 
hands at the blazing wood fire in the living- 
room, Norah said dinner was ready. And such 
a dinner as it was! Aunt Polly had sent the 
turkey from Brookside Farm and most of the 


46 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

vegetables, too! And the currant jelly was the 
reddest you ever saw, and certainly the pumpkin 
pie was the yellowest! Pale little Miss Flor- 
ence, who sewed all day long, day after day, 
week after week, for the people in Oak Hill 
and who had no family of her own to love her, 
said she had never tasted such delicious stuffing 
as came out of the big brown turkey, and as for 
Mrs. Jordan and Paul they ate as though a 
good dinner was a solemn and important affair, 
and perhaps it was to them. 

“It isn’t snowing, is it. Daddy?” said Twad- 
dles, the moment dinner was over. 

“No, I shouldn’t say it was actually snowing,” 
answered Father Blossom teasingly, “but it 
looks very much to me as though it might snow. 
The paper said snow today and those clouds are 
pretty heavy.” 

“But you said if it didn’t snow, you’d take 
us,” urged Bobby. “Didn’t he, Meg?” 

“Yes,” nodded Meg. “Yes, you did. Daddy.” 

“Then I must keep my word,” said Father 
Blossom gravely. “Mother, have you enough 
wraps to keep us all warm?” 


47 


Driving With Daddy- 

Mother Blossom had brought down heavy- 
coats and robes and blankets early that morning, 
and now she and Nor ah began to wrap up the 
guests to make them comfortable for the drive. 
Father Blossom’s car was big and roomy, with 
side curtains that could be put up in case of a 
storm, but it was not a closed car. All the 
Blossoms were fond of plenty of fresh air and 
they liked to be warmly bundled up and then 
to ride through the wind and cold and come 
home with rosy cheeks and bright eyes and, 
goodness, such appetites! 

Sam brought the car around and first Mrs. 
Jordan was helped in, then Paul next to her, 
and then little Miss Florence who, as Father 
Blossom said, hardly took up any room at all. 
Mother Blossom took one of the folding seats 
and Meg the other. Meg wanted very much 
to sit next to her father, but she was little woman 
enough not to tease when she knew there were 
others to be considered. Mother Blossom had 
explained to the children that this ride was 
really to give pleasure to Miss Florence and 


48 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

Mrs. Jordan and Paul, who seldom enjoyed an 
automobile trip. 

“Tuck Dot away in there with you, Mother,” 
said Father Blossom, lifting that small girl in, 
“and ril take the boys with me. Then coming 
home. Dot may changes places with Twaddles, 
if she likes.” 

Finally everyone was nicely packed in and 
away they went, leaving Sam and Nor ah to talk 
over the dinner and eat their own and wash the 
dishes and put them away. 

“Don’t forget to feed Philip and Annabel 
Lee,” cried Meg, and Sam shouted back that he 
would see to “Fill-Up.” This was Sam’s name 
for the dog and although Meg did not like it 
she was used to it by this time. 

“Did you bring anything to eat. Dot?” asked 
Bobby, mischievously, twisting in his seat to 
speak to his small sister. Dot was almost buried 
under the wraps and blankets in the tonneau. 

“No, I didn’t,” she said indignantly. “I 
meant to bring my turkey, but he’s stuck to my 
serge dress.” 


Driving With Daddy 49 

^^Daddy!” cried Twaddles suddenly. “Oh, 
Daddy, I dropped Bobby’s knife!” 

Twaddles never went out in the car that he 
didn’t drop something. His family were used 
to his habit and sometimes Father Blossom 
stopped the car and sometimes he didn’t. It 
depended on what Twaddles dropped. This 
time Father Blossom knew he could not have 
dropped anything in the road because he was 
safely tucked in between Bobby and himself. 

“Daddy, make Twaddles leave my knife 
alone!” said Bobby. “He never even asks me if 
he can have it and he’s always losing it. It’s my 
knife.” 

“I’ll get down and pick it up for you,” of- 
fered Twaddles generously. 

“You leave it alone!” cried Bobby furiously. 
“I’ll get it myself, and if you ever touch it 
again ” Bobby didn’t say what would hap- 

pen, but from the frown on his face Twaddles 
was left to guess that it would be mighty serious. 

However, Twaddles had a will of his own 
and he began to wriggle, intending to slip down 
to the floor and recover the knife. Bobby flung 


50 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

his arm around him to hold him and then, as 
Twaddles kicked, Bobby began to kick, too. 

“Children!” said Mother Blossom in warn- 
ing, but she was too late. 

Father Blossom stopped the car. 

“Meg and Dot, change places with Bobby 
and Twaddles,” he said very quietly. “Hurry, 
please, and don’t keep us waiting.” 

Sam Layton often threatened to make them 
change places when they argued, but this was 
the first time it had ever really happened to 
them. Poor Bobby and Twaddles got slowly 
down and Meg and Dot crawled out and up on 
the front seat with Father Blossom. Then, 
when the robes and blankets were all fixed 
again, they drove on. Bobby and Twaddles 
were very quiet for half an hour and Meg and 
Dot did not talk much, either. Father and 
Mother Blossom and the guests had the conver- 
sation all to themselves. 

“Ralph!” said Mother Blossom, when they 
had driven several miles, “Ralph, I do believe 
it is beginning to snow.” 

“I thought so myself a few minutes ago,” 


Driving With Daddy 511 

answered Father Blossom. “I’ll go on to the 
next cross-roads and turn. We can be home 
before it storms heavily.” 

But the white flakes began to come faster and 
faster and the road was white when they reached 
the cross-road. Father Blossom turned the car 
and they started back to Oak Hill. Dot was 
half asleep, though she would have been much 
aggrieved if anyone had said so, when Meg said 
excitedly that she saw something in the road. 

“Look, Daddy, over under that bush!” she 
insisted. “Let me get out and see. Oh, maybe 
it’s lost in this snowstorm 1” 

“Let Bobby go, ^Daughter,” said Father 
Blossom stopping the car. “Bobby, don’t you 
want to run over and see what that is under the 
bush?” 

Bobby was very glad to go and he was out in 
a minute and running across the road. 

“It’s a dog. Daddy,” he shouted. “A little 
white dog. And he is so cold!” 

“Bring him here and we’ll take care of him,” 
said Father Blossom, smiling at Meg who was 
nearly jumping up and down with anxiety. 


52 Pour Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

‘^Trust Meg to see an animal in trouble. I 
never should have noticed that bit of fluff under 
the bush. Why, he’s almost the color of the 
snow!” 

The little white dog Bobby brought back in 
his arms was so tiny and so soft and silky that 
he might easily have been overlooked in a snow- 
storm. He was evidently lost and had crawled 
under the bush in an effort to keep warm. Meg 
held him on her lap and put her muff over him 
to keep the cold air off. 

“He has a silver collar on,” she reported, “but 
I can’t read it. Can you, Bobby?” 

Bobby leaned over the back of the seat and 
looked at the collar. 

“M-A-T-S-I-E,” he spelled out slowly. 
“What a funny name. But there’s some more — ■ 
C-L-I-F-T-O-N P-A-R-K.” 

“Why, Clifton Park is thirty miles from here,” 
said Father Blossom in surprise. “The poor 
dog never could have come that distance. I 
wonder ” 

Before he could say what he wondered, a 
handsome shining limousine, coming down the 


Driving With Daddy 53 

road slowly from the other direction, stopped. 
The chauffeur held up his hand. 

“Have you seen anything of a dog?” he asked 
anxiously. “A little white dog, with a silver 
collar?” 

And maybe that chauffeur wasn’t surprised 
when four children shouted at him, “Is the dog’s 
name ‘Matsie’?” 

“Yes, we found such a dog,” said Father 
Blossom, smiling. “Back about forty rods, 
under a bush. He was pretty cold, but he seems 
to be all right.” 

The chauffeur came over and took the dog 
Meg held out to him. 

“I’m much obliged to you,” he said awk- 
wardly. “It would cost me my job if I went 
home and told ’em I’d lost Matsie; that dog’s 
worth a thousand dollars and took first prize at 
the last dog show. Mrs. Hemming thinks a 
heap of him.” 

“Well, it is easy to lose a small animal like 
that,” said Father Blossom. “Don’t you think 
you’d beter shut him up in a safe place till you 
get home?” 


54 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

^‘You bet I will,” grinned the chauffeur. “I 
guess Matsie dropped out when I went into a 
rut back there; the rest of the trip he rides down 
under the seat tied fast.” 

He thanked the Blossoms again for finding 
the dog for him and went back to his car, and 
Father Blossom continued the journey toward 
home. Twaddles, who had been remarkably 
silent the whole trip, spoke just as they were 
coming into Oak Hill. 

“Well, I never dropped a dog out of the car, 
did I?” he said seriously, and Mother Blossom 
kissed him and said no, he never had. 

“But you’ve dropped about everything else,” 
declared Bobby gloomily. 


CHAPTER V 


THE FOOTBALL GAME 


F ather blossom drove Mrs. Jordan 
and Paul home and left Miss Florence at 
her house. They all said it had been the hap- 
piest Thanksgiving they had known in years and 
the four little Blossoms were happy, too. 

“I like to have company come to our house,” 
said Meg, as she was going to bed that night. 
^^Don’t you. Dot?” 

“Yes, I do,” replied Dot sleepily. “I’m 
thankful for company.” 

The next day there was no school, of course, 
and though Bobby had planned to play with 
Meg and the twins, two boys came to ask him 
to play football before he was through break- 
fast. 

“Fred Baldwin has a football. Mother,” said 
Bobby earnestly. “And we’re getting up a foot- 

55 


56 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

ball team. Do you care if I go over to his house 
and play?” 

“Let me be on the team?” begged Twaddles. 
“I can play football, Bobby. Can’t I, Dot?” 

“You’re too little,” answered Bobby impa- 
tiently. “Fred is waiting to know if I can come, 
Mother.” 

“But, dear, I don’t see where you are going to 
play,” protested Mother Blossom. “You can’t 
play on the school field, because the older boys 
have that for their use.” 

“They’re all through playing football now,” 
explained Bobby. “The last game was Thanks- 
giving. ‘There’s a vacant lot back of Fred’s 
house. Mother, and we can play there. I’m the 
captain.” 

“All right, dear, run along and have a good 
time,” said Mother Blossom, giving him a kiss. 
“Be sure you come home at twelve o’clock. 
And, Twaddles, I’ll think of something nice for 
you to do at home. When you are as old as 
Bobby, you may play football, too.” 

Fred Baldwin and Palmer Davis, two boys in 


The Football Game 


57 

Bobby’s class at school, were waiting for him. 
Fred had his football under his arm. 

“We’re going over to Bertrand Ashe’s,” Fred 
explained. “His cousin is visiting him over 
Thankgiving and his brother is captain of the 
football team at the State University. So he 
ought to be a good player.” 

Bobby thought a boy who was fortunate 
enough to have a brother captain of a Univer- 
sity team ought to be a good player, too, and he 
did not wonder that Fred had decided to play in 
Bertrand’s yard. 

“Hello,” said Bertrand, when he saw the 
three boys. “This is my cousin, Elmer Lam- 
bert.” 

“Hello,” said Elmer, a tall thin boy with a 
freckled face and nice, merry blue eyes. “I see 
you have a football.” 

Fred was proud of his football. It was a 
present from his grandfather, he explained. 
In five minutes the boys were lined up ready for 
a game. Of course they knew a real football 
team needs eleven players, but as Bertrand sen- 
sibly said there wasn’t room for eleven in the 


^8 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

yard an)rway and they could get alone with five. 

But from the start the game didn’t go 
smoothly. Bobby kicked the ball over the fence 
and then, when he had climbed after it and 
brought it back, Fred kicked it over the fence 
on the other side. 

‘‘There isn’t room enough here,” complained 
Elmer. “Can’t we play somewhere else, Ber- 
trand?” 

“Back of the carpenter shop, across the 
street,” suggested Bertrand. “The shop’s built 
on the edge of the street and there’s an open 
place in back. Come on, I’ll show you.” 

The snowstorm which had begun so briskly 
the afternoon before when the four little Blos- 
soms were out automobiling had not amounted 
to much after all. It had melted during the 
night and though there was a sharp wind and it 
was cold, the ground was almost bare. 

The carpenter shop “on the edge of the street,” 
was a one-story building on the street end of a 
long, narrow lot that stretched through to the 
next block. There was no one around when the 
boys went around back of the shop and it seemed 


The Football Game 


59 

to be locked up securely. Bertrand said he 
thought the man who owned the shop had gone 
away to spend Thanksgiving with his son in 
another town. 

‘Will he mind if we play here?” asked Elmer. 

“He won’t care a bit,” replied Bertrand con- 
fidently. “We won’t hurt anything, and besides 
he won’t know about it.” 

Which wasn’t a very good argument and 
would have made Father Blossom laugh if he 
had heard it. But the boys were too eager to 
resume their game to pay much attention to 
anything Bertrand said. 

Bobby, as captain, had his “signals” written 
down on a piece of paper and he first explained 
them to his players and then called off the num- 
bers as he had seen the high school captain do. 
And when they had tried all the signals three 
times, Elmer suggested that they practice punt- 
ing. 

“That’s very important,” he explained, “and 
my brother says if you can develop a good 
punter on your team, half your troubles are 
settled. I think Bobby does pretty well now.” 


6o Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

Bobby was very much pleased at this praise 
from a boy whose brother was a big football 
captain and he resolved, more firmly than ever, 
to make the football team the first year he was 
in high school. 

‘Tunt now,” urged Elmer. “Stand back, fel- 
lows, and give him a chance. Go on and try, 
Bobby.” 

Bobby took the ball from Fred, held it a 
moment in his hands and dropped it. Before 
it reached the ground he kicked and his toe sent 
it curving in a long line over the lot toward the 
carpenter shop. 

“My goodness, it went in the window!” 
gasped Palmer Davis. “Bobby, you’ve kicked it 
into the carpenter shop 1” 

“How’ll we get it out?” asked Fred anxiously. 
“All the doors are locked, the back one, too. I 
saw the padlocks. How’ll we get my ball back?” 

The five boys looked at each other anxiously. 
There was Fred’s new, expensive football inside 
the locked shop. What would the carpenter say 
when he found it there and would he give it 
back? 


The Football Game 6i 

^‘Do you know the man who owns the shop, 
Bertrand?” asked Elmer sensibly. “Is he 
cross?” 

“Yes, he is,” said Bertrand quickly. “He’ll 
be mad anyway ’cause we’ve been playing here 
and I don’t believe he’ll give the ball back. He 
doesn’t like boys much, ever since a gang used 
to play round his shop and steal pieces of wood 
and tin and solder. That’s why he had the locks 
put on the doors ; he used to have just bolts.” 

Bertrand had a memory like a great many 
other people. He remembered these small de- 
tails after something had happened. 

“Well, I didn’t break a window,” said Bobby 
hopefully. “The ball went through that little 
window that was left open; ’tisn’t as if I had 
broken a window in his shop.” 

“That won’t make any difference,” said Ber- 
trand gloomily. “I tell you he will be mad 
’cause we played on his lot. I think we’d better 
go home before he comes and finds us here.” 

“I won’t go without my ball,” protested 
Fred. “It’s brand-new and I want it. Bobby, 


62 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

you have to ask the man for it, ’cause you kicked 
it through the window.” 

As they talked the boys had been walking 
slowly toward the carpenter shop, and now they 
stood directly under the open window. It was 
smaller than the three regular-sized windows 
which were closed — and presumably locked. 
Bobby could reach the sill of the small window 
with the tips of his fingers. 

“I’m going in to get it,” he said quietly to 
Fred. “You watch, and if you see the man 
coming sing out.” 

“Are you going in?” asked Fred, surprised. 
“Maybe you can’t get out. Aren’t you afraid, 
Bobby?” 

Bobby considered. He was a very honest 
little boy. 

“Yes, I’m afraid, kind of,” he said truthfully. 
“But I’d be more afraid to go and ask the man 
for it. Be sure you yell if you see him coming.” 

He scrambled up to the window sill and the 
boys helped push him through the small open- 
ing. They heard him drop down to the floor 
and begin rummaging around. 


The Football Game 63 

“I don’t see where it went,” he cried. “Gee, 
there’s a lot of things in here.” 

“Come on, I’m going in!” exclaimed Elmer. 
“It’s mean to make Bobby do it all. We were 
all playing. I’m going to help him find the 
ball.” 

The rest of the boys followed Elmer’s lead. 
One by one they scrambled up to the little win- 
dow and squeezed through. Once inside, they 
found the shop so fascinating that they had to 
stop and look around before they began to search 
for the missing ball. 

“What do you suppose this is?” cried Fred, 
pointing to a queer tool that lay on the work- 
bench. 

“I don’t know — don’t touch anything,” said 
Bobby. “I wish I could see the ball. Oh, here’s 
a cat!” 

Sure enough, a sleek gray and white cat lay 
curled up on a coat in one corner of the room. 
She opened her eyes sleepily and stared at 
Bobby and when he patted her she purred 
gently. 

“Here’s the ball!” shouted Elmer Lambert, 


64 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

^Took, it rolled under this basket. Pitch it out 
of the window, Fred, and then we’ll go.” 

“But I want to see how this works,” said Fred, 
who was examining a box that clamped to a 
block of steel. “Just wait a minute, can’t you? 
I want to see if I can work it.” 

“All right, you wait and the carpenter man 
will come along and catch us,” Bobby told him. 
“Then I guess you’ll be sorry.” 

The mention of the carpenter was enough for 
Fred. He tossed his precious football out of 
the window and climbed after it, hastily fol- 
lowed by the other boys. All breathed a sigh of 
relief as they landed safely on the ground. 

“H. Bennett,” read Bobby, looking up at the 
sign which hung over the door. “Does Mr. H. 
Bennett own the shop, Bertrand?” 

“Yes, he’s the carpenter,” replied Bertrand, 
“and he has men who go out and work for him. 
He lives up near the school.” 

“Oh, yes, I know that man,” said Palmer. 
Bobby thought it must be nearly twelve 
o’clock and when Bertrand ran into his house 
to look at the clock, he called back to the rest 


The Football Game 


65 

that it was quarter of twelve. So they scattered 
to go home for lunch and there was of course 
no more football game. 

Luncheon was ready when Bobby reached 
home and oddly enough he did not speak of the 
morning’s experience. Mother Blossom asked 
him if the boys had played football, and Bobby 
answered yes, but he did not say anything about 
the game. Usually he liked to tell about his 
fun and the twins depended on their older 
brother to give them new ideas for playing. 

‘^Sam says he’s going over to Clayton, and 
he’ll come home by the foundry and get Daddy 
and if you say so we may go with him,” cried 
Meg, running in from the garage where she had 
taken Annabel Lee and Philip their dinners. 
‘Tlease, Mother, you want us to go, don’t you?” 

‘^Oh, Mother, let us !” cried the twins. 

“I suppose as it is holiday time and you may 
not have the opportunity again soon, you’ll have 
to go,” said Mother Blossom. ‘‘Be sure you 
wear your sweaters under your coats, and don’t 
bother Sam with too many questions and too 
much chatter.” 


66 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

^‘Oh, goody!” cried the twins, and the chil- 
dren all clattered out of the room to prepare for 
their trip. 

The four little Blossoms had their drive to 
Clayton and came home with Father Blossom 
just in time for dinner. The long ride in the 
cold air made them sleepy and they were glad 
to go to bed earlier than usual. 

In the middle of the night, when it was dark 
and still and very cold, something woke Bobby. 
He sat up in bed and listened, then snuggled 
down under the blankets, for a chilly wind blew 
in at the window. 

“Fire engines,” he whispered, and went to 
sleep again. 


CHAPTER VI 


BOBBY HEARS BAD NEWS 


A nother cup of coffee, please, Norah,” 
said Father Blossom. 

It was breakfast time, and the four little 
Blossoms had each made a separate trip to the 
door and back, before taking seats at the table, 
to see if it ‘Vasn’t going to snow.” Father 
Blossom had finally said that no one was to open 
the door again and that he would like to eat 
breakfast once with his family when he did not 
feel that he had to hurry. 

‘‘Aren’t you going directly to the foundry, 
then?” asked Mother Blossom, sugaring Dot’s 
oatmeal for her. 

“No, I have an errand in town first,” replied 
Father Blossom. “By the way, Sam tells me a 
carpenter shop burned down last night.” 

“Mr. H. Bennett’s carpenter shop?” asked 
Bobby in surprise. Then he flushed a bright 
red. 


67 


68 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

“Why, yes, it was Bennett’s,” said Father 
Blossom, glancing curiously at Bobby. “What 
do you know about the place. Son?” 

“Nothing much,” muttered Bobby. “It’s 
over by Bertrand’s house.” 

“Was it much of a loss, dear?” asked Mother 
Blossom. 

“I believe it was,” replied Father Blossom, 
and Bobby listened eagerly. “Several hundred 
dollars’ worth of valuable tools and some build- 
ing plans and considerable cabinet work was 
destroyed, Sam says. The only thing saved was 
a cat.” 

It was on the tip of Bobby’s tongue to add, 
“a gray and white one,” but he stopped himself 
just in time. 

“There’s Fred Baldwin whistling for me,” 
he said instead. “He wants me to come and 
play. May I be excused. Mother?” 

“Mother, Bobby never plays with us any 
more,” complained Twaddles. “He ought to 
stay in our yard some, don’t you think? All he 
cares about now is playing football.” 

“I don’t mind the football,” said Mother 


Bobby Hears Bad News 69 

Blossom smiling. “But I do wish the boys 
wouldn’t come and whistle outside the house 
when we are eating, Bobby. I like you to stay 
at the table till a meal is properly finished.” 

“Well, I will next time,” promised Bobby, 
throwing his arms about her and giving her a 
hug. 

The twins took the opportunity to help them- 
selves to marmalade and when the scandalized 
Norah and Meg drew attention to the mountain 
of sweet stuff on the two plates, Bobby ran off 
while Twaddles and Dot were loudly protesting 
that they had only taken a “tiny bit.” 

“Hello, Bobby!” said Fred, as Bobby came 
running down the path. “Say, did you know the 
carpenter shop burned down last night?” 

“Daddy told me,” replied Bobby. “I thought 
I heard fire engines when I woke up. It’s lucky 
they saved the cat.” 

The boys were walking up the street and now 
Fred turned and looked at Bobby. 

“Mr. Bennett thinks we set it on fire,” he said 
in a low tone, and glancing over his shoulder as 
though he expected to see the owner of the car- 


70 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

penter shop behind him. “He heard we were in 
his shop yesterday.” 

“Well, suppose we were — we didn’t set it on 
fire!” said Bobby crossly. He was cross because 
he was worried. It is not very pleasant to be 
told that some one suspects you of setting his 
shop on fire. 

“No, of course we didn’t,” agreed Fred. 
“But you know Bertrand says Mr. Bennett 
doesn’t like boys, and I suppose if he had caught 
us in there he would have been awfully mad. 
And now he knows we were in there, he’s sure 
we did it.” 

“Who told him we were in his shop?” asked 
Bobby suddenly. 

“Bertrand says some of the neighbors saw us 
climb in,” explained Fred. “Bertrand’s over at 
my house now, waiting for us. He told me. 
And Palmer Davis is there, too, and Elmer 
Lambert.” 

Bobby and Fred found the other three boys 
in Fred’s yard. They looked serious and no 
one suggested football. Evidently Bertrand 
had been telling them more about Mr. Bennett. 


Bobby Hears Bad News 71 

‘^He’s so mad/’ reported Bertrand when he 
saw Fred and Bobby, ^^he’s so mad, I don’t dare 
go on that side of the street. I saw it burning 
last night — everybody on our street woke up 
when the engines came. And a solid mahogany 
china closet he was carving was burned, and my 
father says he never had any insurance.” 

^‘But we didn’t burn his shop,” argued Bobby. 
“Look how long ago we were in there — yester- 
day morning and it never burned down till late 
at night. Doesn’t that show we didn’t do it?” 

“Well, Mr. Bennett says maybe we tipped 
over oil or varnish or something and it took a 
long time to soak into the wood and then it 
caught fire from the stove he had in the corner,” 
explained Bertrand. 

“Did he tell you that?” demanded Bobby. 

“Oh, my no!” said Bertrand, looking fright- 
ened at the idea. “He never said a word to me; 
I wouldn’t go near him. But the man that tends 
our furnace heard him and he told me. And he 
says Mr. Bennett has all our names and he is 
going to see our fathers!” 


72 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

The boys stared at each other. This was 
dreadful! Only Elmer Lambert smiled. 

^‘I’m going home this afternoon,” he said. 
^‘Gee, I’m sorry for the rest of you.” 

^T’m going to tell my father right away!” 
cried Bobby. ^T’ll go out to the foundry before 
he comes home to lunch. He comes home at 
noon, Saturdays.” 

But Fred Baldwin sprang up angrily. 

‘^Don’t you dare!” he said excitedly, shaking 
his fist at Bobby. “Don’t you dare tell your 
father! He’d call up my father and then I’d 
catch it. My father will be mad if he hears I 
went into the old carpenter shop when the door 
was locked. That was all your fault, Bobby — 
we wouldn’t have gone in if you hadn’t.” 

“Well, he went after your ball,” said Elmer 
reasonably. “And I guess your father will know 
you were in the shop if Mr. Bennett tells him 
about it, won’t he?” 

“Perhaps he won’t tell him,” said the hopeful 
Fred. “He may forget all about it, or find out 
jvho really did set the shop on fire. But any- 


Bobby Hears Bad News 73 

one who tells first is mean, because my father 
will scold like anything.” 

So Bobby promised not to tell his father and 
the other boys promised to keep silent, too. 

^‘There’s no use in making trouble,” declared 
Fred when the noon whistles blew and his 
friends started for their homes. ‘Terhaps Mr. 
Bennett won’t say a thing, and then think how 
silly we’d feel.” 

But Bobby, while he may not have felt silly, 
certainly was feeling far from comfortable as 
he walked home. And when he reached home 
and saw the car in the garage, which meant that 
Father Blossom was home earlier than usual, he 
wished that it was not Saturday. If it had been, 
say, Tuesday, his father would not have come 
home to lunch. 

‘^Now, Bobby, I want you to stay in the house 
this afternoon and play,” said Mother Blossom 
cheerfully. ^‘You haven’t been in the house 
hardly an hour since the holiday began. You 
and Meg think of something you want to do, 
and if Dot and Twaddles can play it, too, that 
will be lovely. Your father and I are going 


74 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

over accounts and we want to have a few hours 
of quiet.” 

^^Oh, dear, he isn’t even going anywhere,” 
thought poor Bobby, toiling upstairs after Meg 
and the noisy twins who were headed for the 
playroom. He had been hoping, during lunch, 
that Father Blossom would go for a drive in 
the car and perhaps take Mother Blossom with 
him. 

‘‘What ails you, Bobby?” asked Meg when 
they reached the third floor front room, given 
over to the four little Blossoms as a winter place 
to play. “I’ve asked you twice what you want 
to do and you don’t say anything.” 

“There’s the doorbell,” said Bobby, running 
into the hall to look over the banisters. It was 
only the laundryman and he came back, re- 
lieved. 

“Mother says it isn’t nice to hang over the 
railing when the bell rings,” said Meg reprov- 
ingly. 

“I don’t care, I will if I want to,” was Bobby’s 
answer to this. “What shall we play?” 

“Soap bubbles,” suggested Dot, and this 


Bobby Hears Bad News 75 

seemed to suit everyone, so Meg brought out 
the bowls and the pipes and an apron for Dot 
who was sure to need one. 

The bell rang three times while Bobby was 
blowing soap bubbles and each time his heart 
gave a fearful thump. He was afraid Mr. Ben- 
nett had come to complain about the carpenter 
shop. But none of the rings brought him, and 
Bobby was beginning to think the carpenter was 
not coming that afternoon when suddenly he 
heard Norah calling him from the second floor 
hall. 

“Bobby!” she called. “Bobby, your father 
wants you right away.” 

“I didn’t hear the doorbell,” said Bobby to 
himself as he walked slowly downstairs. “How 
could he come ’thout ringing the bell?” 

Bobby never doubted that Mr. Bennett had 
come. And he had. He had come in his small 
work car and Father Blossom had seen him 
through the window and had gone to the door 
to save him waiting in the cold. That was why 
Bobby had not heard the doorbell. 

Although he walked as slowly as he could. 


76 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

Bobby finally came to the door of the living 
room. There was no one there for Mother 
Blossom, supposing that Mr. Bennett had come 
to talk business with Father Blossom, had ex- 
cused herself and gone upstairs to write a letter. 

‘Tn here. Son,” said Father Blossom’s voice, 
and Bobby saw they were in the little back room 
where Father Blossom had his desk. 

Mr. Bennett sat facing the door and Father 
Blossom sat at his desk. The carpenter was a 
short, heavy man with a red face and a deep, 
hoarse voice. He had small, quick blue eyes 
and just now they looked angry. 

“Bobby,” said Father Blossom quietly, “this 
is Mr. Bennett whose shop burned down last 
night. And he seems to think that you, and 
some other boys, are responsible for the fire.” 

“Think 1 ” snorted Mr. Bennett. “Think! I 
don’t think anything about it; I know those kids 
set the place on fire. And they’ve got to pay 
for it.” 

Bobby had got as far as the desk and there he 
stood, feeling very unhappy and a little 
ashamed. 


Bobby Hears Bad News 77 

“Were you in the shop at all, Bobby?” asked 
Father Blossom keenly. 

“Yes, Daddy,” replied Bobby bravely, raising 
his eyes. “I went in after the football. The 
window was open. And I didn’t touch a thing. 
None of us did. Except the cat. We stroked 
her and made her purr.” 

“You needn’t tell me that five boys — and I 
have the names of everyone of you — could go ' 
in a tool shop and not upset things,” scolded 
Mr. Bennett. “I know as well as though I’d 
seen you do it, some of you kicked over turpen- 
tine and varnish and laid the foundations for 
the fire.” 

“We did not!” retorted Bobby. “I had to get 
the ball out, ’cause it wasn’t mine. But I didn’t 
set your old shop ” 

“That will do. Son,” interrupted Father 
Blossom. “You had absolutely no right to go 
into Mr. Bennett’s shop in his absence and I 
am exceedingly sorry to hear you did such a 
thing. The other boys were wrong, too, and 
Mr. Bennett has a right to be angry. I don’t 
think you are responsible for the fire, however, 


78 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

and we hope we’ll be able to convince Mr. 
Bennett presently.” 

“Convince me!” almost shouted the carpen- 
ter. “Why, I tell you those boys set my shop 
on fire! A parcel of young ones, skylarking 
over my work bench and in among my tools and 
varnishes — I wish I’d caught ’em at it! I could 
make ’em dance! And now that boy stands 
there and denies up and down he had anything 
to do with the fire and you expect me to believe 
him. I’m going up to the police court and get 
warrants out for every one of ’em, that’s what 
I’m going to do!” shrieked the angry carpenter, 
thumping the desk. 

Bobby turned pale and his knees began to 
wobble. But Father Blossom only shook his 
head. 

“I don’t think you will do that, Mr. Bennett,” 
he said. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE MAGIC FOUNTAIN 

F ather blossom did not seem to be 
afraid of Mr. Bennett, though the car- 
penter’s red face and angry eyes and the way 
he pounded the desk scared Bobby speechless. 
Father Blossom continued to sit quietly in his 
chair and when Mr. Bennett started toward the 
door, repeating that he was going uptown and 
“get warrants,” Father Blossom merely said 
again, “I don’t think you will do that, Mr. 
Bennett.” 

“Why not?” blustered the carpenter, stopping 
half way in the hall. “Why not? What’s to 
stop me, I’d like to know?” 

“Well, in the first place,” said Father 
Blossom evenly, “the recorder isn’t likely to take 
a complaint against boys seriously; and if he 
did, he would require more evidence than you 
seem to have. For instance, are you sure your 

79 


8o Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

cat didn’t upset this varnish and oil you 
speak of?” 

“The cat!” sputtered Mr. Bennett. “It’s 
likely a cat would do that, isn’t it? I never 
heard such nonsense.” 

“You didn’t see the cat do it, of course,” ad- 
mitted Father Blossom. “But neither did you 
see the boys. You only surmise. And a police 
complaint needs evidence to back it, Mr. 
Bennett.” 

The carpenter scolded and raged another ten 
minutes, but in the end he went away muttering 
that he guessed he’d wait a few days before 
having the boys arrested. When the front door 
banged behind him, Bobby breathed a sigh of 
relief. 

“Now I want to know all about this affair,” 
said Father Blossom gravely, and Bobby told 
him. 

“We didn’t set the shop on fire, honestly we 
didn’t. Daddy,” he concluded. “We didn’t 
knock over anything. And I only touched the 
cat.” 

“No, I don’t believe you set the place on fire, 


The Magic Fountain 8l 

either,” said Father Blossom. “But remember 
after this, Bobby, that it is never right to go into 
a room or a shop or building that belongs to 
someone else when it is locked expressly to keep 
people out. You should have left the ball 
there and asked for it back when you could find 
Mr. Bennett. But then, boys don’t think of that 
when they are playing and I won’t blame you 
too severely for crawling through the window. 
But you made another mistake and one I think 
you must have known when you made it.” 

Bobby looked at the floor. “I — I didn’t say 
anything ’bout the fire,” he faltered. 

“You didn’t come straight to me when you 
heard Mr. Bennett was angry and accused you,” 
said Father Blossom. “It makes me feel bad 
to learn that my boy was afraid to tell me he 
was in trouble.” 

This was too much for Bobby and he flung 
himself into his father’s lap and cried a little, 
even if he was seven and a half years old. 

“I wanted to tell you. Daddy,” he insisted. 
“Honestly I did. But — but — the fellows ” 

“Someone didn’t want to tell, I suppose,” said 


82 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

Father Blossom. ^‘Well, we don’t like to go 
against our friends’ wishes and sometimes they 
say we will get them into trouble if we do. But 
I think it is always best for a boy to tell his 
daddy, at least of his own share in anything like 
this. Next time you’ll know better what to do.” 

Bobby was silent for a little while and then 
he asked timidly if the carpenter could have 
them arrested. 

“I don’t know, Son, but I doubt it,” replied 
Father Blossom, who never pretended to know 
when he was not sure. “You want to say as little 
about this as possible and don’t talk unkindly of 
Mr. Bennett with the other boys. You were not 
wholly in the right, you know, and he has lost a 
valuable collection of tools and much fine work. 
It is natural that he should feel bitter. If you 
are patient, some day he will find out that he 
has been mistaken and I know he is man enough 
to admit it when he discovers he is wrong.” 

Bobby was very quiet through dinner that 
night and he stayed closely to the house over 
Sunday. He did not tell even Meg about Mr. 
Bennett, though usually he told her everything 


The Magic Fountain 83 

that happened to him. Mother Blossom knew, 
of course, but she did not speak of it. It was not 
till Meg went to school Monday morning that 
she heard of the mischief the five boys were sup- 
posed to have done. 

“Oh, Bobby!” she gasped when she met him 
at the school gate at noon. “Bobby, do you 
know what that awful Charlie Black is saying 
about you? He says you and Fred Baldwin and 
Palmer Davis and Bertrand Ashe and that 
Lambert boy who was visiting Bertrand over 
Thanksgiving, set fire to Mr. Bennett’s carpen- 
ter shop!” 

“Charlie Black is a fibber!” said Bobby hotly. 
“We didn’t set fire to the shop.” And then, be- 
cause there was no hope of satisfying Meg with 
anything less, he told her the whole story. 

She was as indignant as any small sister would 
be and she assured Bobby that she knew he had 
not burned down the shop. But not everyone 
had so much faith, and as the news travelled 
through the school — as such news will — Bobby 
and the three other boys (Elmer Lambert had 
gone home Saturday afternoon and was safely 


84 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

out of trouble) had to submit to much teasing 
and questioning. Charlie Black and Tim Roon 
taunted Bobby openly with having set fire to the 
carpenter shop, and one recess a pitched battle 
started between Bobby and his friends and 
Charlie Black and Tim Roon and their chums. 

Fighting was strictly forbidden in the school 
yard and the culprits were marched in disgrace 
to the principal’s office by one of the teachers 
who said that it was ^^a mercy Mr. Carter is 
here today and can punish you as you deserve.” 

Mr. Carter asked a few questions, scolded 
them all for breaking the rule against fighting 
and then sent Tim and Charlie and their three 
followers down to the gymnasium to wash off 
the dirt, first warning them that they were not 
to molest Bobby or his chums or make any refer- 
ence whatever to the carpenter shop fire again. 

Then the principal kept Bobby and Fred 
Palmer and Bertrand a few minutes longer 
while he told them that he did not believe they 
were responsible for the fire and that he thought 
very few people would ever believe it. But, 
he said, it was foolish to pay any attention to 


The Magic Fountain 85 

taunts or teasing, and that when people were 
wrongly accused, if they were brave, it didn’t 
matter to them what unkind things were said 
about them. 

“And now you may go,” said Mr. Carter 
smiling. “But there must be no more fighting. 
Another time I shall have to be more severe.” 

“I didn’t even know he’d heard about the 
fire,” said Bobby, walking home that noon with 
Meg. “I guess everybody in Oak Hill knows 
about it; and Mr. Bennett probably goes around 
telling everyone we set fire to his shop. Oh, 
dear, I wish I’d never played football!” 

But Bobby forgot his troubles when he and 
Meg reached home and found that Dot and 
Twaddles were planning to give a play that 
afternoon. 

“You must hurry right home from school,” 
announced Dot importantly. “Mother is com- 
ing and so is Norah. The curtain raises at 
three.” 

“You talk as if the curtain were Norah’s 
bread,” giggled Meg. “You should say the 
curtain ^rises’ at three. Dot.” 


86 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

^‘Huh, it doesn’t rise, either,” remarked 
Twaddles, who had come to the lunch table 
with his face streaked with dust. ‘Tt pulls 
apart!” 

^‘How dirty your face is,” observed Bobby, 
big-brother fashion. “Where are you going 
to give this play. Twaddles?” 

“Up garret,” answered Twaddles. “You pay 
six pins and you can come. And we have seats 
and everything.” 

“I don’t know anything about it,” laughed 
Mother Blossom when Bobby asked her what 
kind of a play the young ones were planning. 
“Dot and Twaddles have done it all themselves; 
they have been working all morning and aside 
from considerable racket, I wouldn’t know 
there was to be a play. You and Meg will have 
to wait and see. And, Twaddles, my dear little 
son, how could you come to the table with such 
a dirty face?” 

“That’s shadows,” said Twaddles comfort- 
ably. “Will you hurry, Meg?” 

Meg and Bobby promised to hurry home 
from school that afternoon and they were 


The Magic Fountain 87 

home twenty minutes after the dismissal bell 
had sounded. They paid their six pins to Twad- 
dles, who stood at the door of the garret, and 
went in. Mother Blossom and Norah were al- 
ready there, seated on a board placed on two 
small footstools. 

‘‘ ’Tisn’t a very high seat,” whispered Norah 
to Meg, who sat down beside her, ‘‘but then you 
haven’t far to fall.” 

Meg and Bobby stared in surprise at the cor- 
ner of the attic which the twins had curtained 
off for the stage. They would not let anybody 
help, so they had not been able to hang their 
curtiins very high. A string had been stretched 
from one side of the wall to the other, where the 
garret roof began to slope, and two old lace cur- 
tains were flung over this. The audience could 
see through the lace without the slightest trou- 
ble but, as Dot said, they were supposed to pre- 
tend they couldn’t. 

“The play will begin in a minute,” announced 
Twaddles, stepping out from behind the curtain. 
“It is called ‘The Magic Fountain’ and I in- 
vented some of it and Dot did, too.” 


88 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

The audience politely clapped, and Twaddles 
reached up to pull the curtains apart. Some- 
thing went wrong, the string broke and curtains 
and cord came down upon the unfortunate 
stage manager. Bobby untangled him and 
Twaddles said he thought they could get along 
without curtains. 

“Hurry up, Dot,’^ he called in a loud whis- 
per. “Come on, and begin. What are you 
waiting for?” 

“I got it!” cried Dot, climbing out of a trunk 
that stood open on the “stage.” She wore a 
blue silk dress that had been her grandmother’s 
and was the pride of her heart because it had 
a long train. 

“This is the fountain,” declared Twaddles, 
pointing to the open trunk. “I am a witch-man 
and I point my wand at it and a beautiful 
princess comes out. You watch.” 

The summer before. Twaddles and Dot had 
seen an electric fountain and had watched fasci- 
nated while pretty girls and beautiful scenery 
and once what Dot called a “whole house” had 


The Magic Fountain 89 

risen apparently out of the water. This had 
given them the idea for their play. 

‘‘You have to wait a minute while I put on 
my hair/’ said Dot so seriously that the audi- 
ence did not dare laugh. 

The desire of Dot for long golden curls was 
something no one could understand. All her 
dolls had to have yellow hair and she was al- 
ways sighing for long, springy curls instead of 
the short, thick dark hair that covered her head. 
Now she carefully put on a circlet of pasteboard 
to which she had pinned long streamers of yel- 
low crepe paper twisted to look something like 
curls. 

“You look crazy,” said Bobby frankly, but 
Twaddles withered him with a look. 

“A heap you know about a princess,” he said 
scornfully. “They always have long hair. Go 
on, Dot.” 

Dot curled herself into the trunk and Twad- 
dles stood by it. He rapped with his wand 
three times and up rose the princess, slowly and 
gracefully, her yellow curls dangling half-way 
to her waist. 


90 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

“Now go back!” commanded the witch-man, 
striking the trunk with his wand again to make 
the princess disappear. 

She disappeared, but more quickly than she 
had intended. Twaddles’ stick had jarred the 
heavy lid of the trunk and it crashed down, hid- 
ing the princess from view, but not shutting out 
her shrieks of fright. 

“Mother!” screamed poor Dot. “Mother! 
Ow! Open it, Twaddles!” 

“You’re a fine witch-man,” scolded Bobby, 
rushing for the trunk; but Mother Blossom and 
Norah reached it first. 


CHAPTER VIII 


CHRISTMAS AT SCHOOL 

W ELL, Dot wasn’t hurt, and Mother had 
her out of the trunk in a jiffy. Dot, 
between her sobs, managed to remember that it 
was the end of the play, anyway, and that made 
her feel better. And after Twaddles had ex- 
plained that he did not mean to knock so hard, 
they all went downstairs. 

“I think it was worth six pins,” said Bobby 
slowly, and Mother Blossom laughed and said 
she thought so, too. 

For the first time in weeks the twins did not 
envy Bobby and Meg when they started off to 
school the next morning. It had snowed during 
the night, and great was the excitement of the 
four little Blossoms who awoke to find a beau- 
tiful white world. 

“We can play in it, can’t we?” urged Twad- 
dles, bouncing around in his chair and nearly 
91 


92 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

upsetting Meg’s oatmeal bowl. “Let’s hurry 
and go out, Dot.” 

“I’m glad we don’t have to go to school,” said 
Dot. “Meg has to go; she can’t play in the 
snow till this afternoon. And Bobby has to go 
to school — he can’t play, either.” 

“I hate school!” muttered Bobby. “I wish I 
never had to go near the place.” 

Mother Blossom glanced at him in surprise 
and Father Blossom put down his paper and 
said if they’d hurry he would take him and Meg 
to school in the car. Mr. Bennett’s story of the 
fire was known all over Oak Hill by this time 
and though his parents guessed that Bobby was 
not exactly happy under such an accusation, 
they did not know how much tormenting he had 
to endure. Mr. Carter managed to keep him 
and the other boys out of actual fights, but he 
could not prevent the sly teasing that went on. 
The lads in the upper grades took special de- 
light in pretending that they heard fire engines 
whenever Bobby or any of the three boys ac- 
cused with him of the burning of the carpenter 


Christmas at School 93 

shop came near them. Bobby often said 
gloomily that he would like to run away. 

‘^Well, school closes Friday,” Meg reminded 
her brother cheerfully. “And it’s almost Christ- 
mas. I have to go shopping Saturday.” 

“So do I, Meg,” chimed in Dot. “I have to 
go shopping. Can’t I go with you?” 

“I’ll go, too,” said Twaddles placidly. “I 
have ten cents to spend.” 

“I want to go by myself,” declared Meg. “I 
don’t see why you always have to tag along.” 

“I shouldn’t think you’d want to go where 
you’re not wanted,” said Bobby crossly. 

“Well, we do,” retorted Twaddles. “We’re 
going — ^you’ll see.” 

“Why, this doesn’t sound much like Christ- 
mas,” said Father Blossom in surprise. “You’ll 
be quarreling in a minute, and no one should 
ever quarrel at Christmas time. If you’re com- 
ing with me, Meg and Bobby, get your things 
on. And, Dot and Twaddles, I thought you 
were going to play out in the snow?” 

The thought of the snow restored Dot and 
Twaddles to good humor and they ran to get 


94 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

their mittens and leggings and coats, while Meg 
and Bobby rode to school with Sam and Father 
Blossom. 

When they came home at noon, they had news 
to tell of the last day, before the Christmas va- 
cation began. 

“We’re not going to have exercises this year,” 
reported Meg, “but Miss Wright is going to 
read us a Christmas story and everybody will 
sing. And then there is a big Christmas tree 
and every child brings two presents — not great, 
big expensive ones. Mother, but little silly ones.” 

“What’s a silly present?” demanded Twad- 
dles. 

“Mother,” said Meg with dignity, “can’t I 
ever speak to you without Twaddles listening?” 

“I’m not listening,” cried Twaddles, much 
hurt. “And Dot isn’t listening, either.” 

“What do you suppose Uncle Dave and Aunt 
Miranda will think of children who squabble 
as you do?” said Mother Blossom. “Bobby, 
will you bring me the letter that is on the hall 
table, like my good little son?” 

“Is Uncle Dave coming?” asked Meg, 


Christmas at School 


95 


“Yes, dear, he and Aunt Miranda are coming 
to spend Christmas with us,” replied Mother 
Blossom. “The letter came this morning. They 
will get here — let me see, when did uncle write 
they would get here?” 

Mother Blossom opened the letter Bobby 
brought her and ran over the faint, small hand- 
writing hastily. Uncle Dave was her own uncle, 
and great-uncle to the four little Blossoms. He 
was an old man and it was not easy for him to 
write a letter. 

“Uncle Dave writes they will be here Mon- 
day, that is the day before Christmas,” said 
Mother Blossom. “I am so glad they can come; 
they have never seen Dot and Twaddles, you 
know.” 

“Well, Mother, may Bobby and I go shop- 
ping without coming home from school this 
afternoon?” asked Meg. “We have to get two 
things apiece, that’s four altogether.” 

“Let us go. Mother?” begged Dot. “We can 
go and meet Meg and Bobby after school.” 

“I think Meg and Bobby should have this 
afternoon alone to buy the presents for the 


g6 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

school Christmas tree,” said Mother Blossom 
firmly. ‘‘Then, Saturday morning, you may all 
go shopping together. How will that be?” 

This seemed to suit everyone, and Mother 
Blossom gave Bobby an extra kiss as he and 
Meg hurried back to school. Bobby did not 
have much to say about school nowadays, and 
Mother Blossom was sorry he did not feel 
happier. 

“Mother gave me forty cents,” said Meg as 
they walked along. “We mustn’t buy anything 
that costs more than ten cents. Miss Wright 
said.” 

“Who do we give ’em to?” asked Bobby curi- 
ously. 

“Why, didn’t you hear Miss Wright when she 
was talking this morning in assembly?” asked 
Meg, surprised. “She said she’ll have a basket 
in her office tomorrow, two baskets I mean, one 
for boys’ presents and one for the girls. And we 
wrap our things up and drop them in, one for a 
boy and one for a girl; then Miss Wright puts 
the names on and no one knows what the pres- 
ents are, not even Miss Wright or Mr. Carter.” 


Christmas at School 97 

As soon as school was out that afternoon 
Bobby and Meg started for the stores. It had 
stopped snowing soon after noon, and the walks 
were wet and slippery. Some of the children 
had their sleds out but there was not enough 
snow for good sledding or coasting. 

“We’ll go to the five-and-ten-cent store,” 
planned Meg. “Isn’t it fun to buy four things 1 ” 

She and Bobby spent over an hour, looking 
at everything on the long counters, and finally 
Meg bought a chain of blue beads for a girl 
and a little red-covered address book for a boy. 
Bobby chose a little pin tray for a girl and for 
his boy’s present he selected a key-ring. 

The twins were nearly beside themselves with 
eagerness to see the presents, and they insisted 
on helping tie them up, and Dot wanted to take 
them to the school and put them in the baskets 
that night. 

“You don’t believe in wasting time, do you, 
Dot?” teased Father Blossom. “However, I 
think tomorrow morning will be better. Meg 
says the tree will not be trimmed till Friday.” 

The next day was Thursday, and Meg and 


98 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

Bobby took their tissue-paper wrapped parcels 
to school and dropped them into the two large 
baskets which stood in the vice-principal’s office. 
There was a buzz of excitement in every class- 
room and Miss Lee, Bobby’s teacher, said that 
school might as well close then and there for 
all the work that was being done. 

‘‘Tim Roon, if I see you whispering once 
more,” Miss Lee scolded, “you will have to 
stay after school an hour tomorrow night. 
What are you and Charlie Black giggling 
over?” 

Tim Roon merely stopped whispering, but 
did not explain. 

“I wish we could go see the tree,” said 
Twaddles wistfully Thursday night. “Meg 
and Bobby have all the fun.” 

“Why, Twaddles!” said Mother Blossom. 
“You and Dot are going shopping Saturday 
morning, you know you are. And Norah and 
I need you tomorrow to help us get ready for 
Uncle Dave and Aunt Miranda.” 

So Twaddles cheered up and decided that he 
was important, after all. 


Christmas at School 


99 


Friday morning, Meg and Bobby pattered 
away to school for the one session which always 
featured the last day before the close of a term 
or the beginning of a holiday. They found the 
building bright with wreaths and ropes of 
Christmas greens. 

‘‘Have you seen the tree?” asked Palmer 
Davis excitedly, meeting Bobby in the hall. 
“It’s a great big one, almost as high as the ceil- 
ing. And all the presents are tied on. They did 
it last night.” 

The pupils filed into the assembly hall as 
usual, but it is doubtful whether any of them 
heard the Bible reading or knew which song 
they were singing. All eyes were fastened on 
the beautiful big tree which towered nearly to 
the ceiling. It was sprinkled with tissue-paper 
packages and looked as mysterious as though 
Santa Claus had trimmed it himself. 

There was an hour or so of work in the class- 
rooms, putting the desks in order for the holiday 
recess, and making sure that no loose papers 
were left in the books, and then the gong 
sounded again and the whole four grades 


loo Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

marched back to the assembly hall for the 
exercises. 

Bobby’s class sat directly across the aisle from 
Meg’s and she saw him and smiled. Miss 
Wright read them a Christmas story that made 
every one think of Christmas Eve and stockings 
to be filled and all the fun of Christmas morn- 
ing; then the school sang two Christmas carols 
and then, and then it was time to distribute the 
presents. Mr. Carter came in to do that. He 
had spent half the morning at the grammar 
school exercises. 

It was great fun and there was so much talk 
and laughter — for Mr. Carter himself said that 
they should talk as much as they pleased — that 
even the janitor peeped in to see what the racket 
was about. The pupils were told to unwrap 
their presents as soon as they received them and 
such a collection you never saw! There were 
tin whistles and small horns, and these, of 
course, the boys simply had to test at once, and 
ribbons and little dolls and candy and paint 
boxes, and indeed about everything you could 
hope to mention. 


Christmas at School loi 

Meg had a tiny painting set (which she 
planned to give to Dot) and a doll’s fan for her 
gifts, and she looked about for Bobby to show 
them to him as soon as she had unwrapped 
them. She found him in one corner of the room 
with Palmer Davis, Bertrand and Fred. Bobby 
looked very angry. 

‘‘I think it’s mean,” Fred was saying as Meg 
came up. 

‘‘If I knew who did it,” began Bobby hotly, 
but Miss Mason approached him smilingly be- 
fore he could finish what he meant to say. 

“Let me see what you have, Bobby,” she said 
pleasantly. 

Bobby put his hands behind his back and 
looked obstinate, 

“Bobby, I asked you to let me see your Christ- 
mas presents,” said Miss Mason, beginning to 
look severe. 

“I — I won’t!” blurted Bobby, trying to get 
behind Fred Baldwin. 

“Bobby Blossom, how dare you speak to me 
like that!” exclaimed Miss Mason, losing her 
temper, while Meg wished she wouldn’t scold 


102 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

Bobby in such a loud tone. All the children 
were listening. ^^Mr. Carter, what do you think 
of a boy who flatly refuses to obey?” 

Mr. Carter turned when Miss Mason raised 
her voice. He said nothing, but Bobby knew 
that he was looking at him. He could not bear 
to have the principal think he was stubborn and 
he was dreadfully afraid he was going to cry. 
He jerked his hand up and threw what he held 
directly at the astonished Miss Mason. 

“Why, it’s a piece of coal!” said Meg aloud. 


CHAPTER IX 


COMPANY COMES 

I ’M VERY sorry this happened,” said Mr. 
Carter gravely. 

He and Meg and Bobby stood in the hall, just 
outside the Assembly hall, where the children 
were singing the closing Christmas carol. The 
principal had beckoned to Bobby when the 
music began and Meg had followed them. 

‘T’m very sorry,” repeated Mr. Carter. ^^Do 
you know who sent this piece of coal to you, 
Bobby?” 

“No, sir!” said Bobby hastily. “I don’t know 
at all.” 

“And you evidently don’t want me to guess,” 
said the principal with a half-smile. “I think 
that will be better, after all. Just pretend to 
pay no attention and whoever is trying to tease 
you will see that he has missed his aim. Did I 
hand this to you from the tree, Bobby? Was 

there anything with it?” 

103 


1104 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

“Yes, you gave it to me,” replied Bobby. 
“My other present was a game.” 

“Was there anything with the piece of coal?” 
persisted Mr. Carter. 

“There was a piece of paper that said ‘to help 
you start another fire,’ ” said Bobby jerkily. “I 
tore it up.” 

“I should have liked to see the writing,” re- 
marked Mr. Carter. “But never mind. Evi- 
dently someone removed one package marked 
with your name from the basket last night, after 
we finished working, or it may have been this 
morning, and substituted the coal. The best 
thing to do is to ignore the silly trick alto- 
gether.” 

The carol ended just as he finished speaking 
and the assembly broke up. Mr. Carter put his 
arm around Bobby, wished him a Merry Christ- 
mas, and said that he must let nothing spoil his 
holidays. Then he shook hands with Meg and 
wished her “Merry Christmas,” too, and they 
were free to go. As they went slowly upstairs 
to get their wraps, for the corridors were 
crowded, they passed Miss Mason. 


Company Comes 105 

“Merry Christmas, Bobby!” she smiled and 
nodded. “And you, too, Meg.” 

That was Miss Mason’s way of telling Bobby 
that she understood why he had been cross and 
that she knew he did not mean to be rude, 
Bobby’s own sunny smile answered her and he 
began to feel better directly. By the time he 
reached home he had almost forgotten the piece 
of coal. 

“No more school for two weeks!” he shouted, 
prancing into the kitchen where Mother Blos- 
som and Norah were. 

“It’s snowing! It’s snowing!” shrieked the 
twins, tumbling up the back steps and bursting 
into the kitchen like two small whirlwinds. 
“There’s going to be snow on Christmas!” 

As soon as lunch was over, the four little 
Blossoms went out to play in the snow and they 
spent the time till dinner teaching Philip to pull 
the sled. The dog didn’t like it very well, but 
the children had glorious fun and came in with 
such red cheeks and such appetites that Father 
Blossom declared he was almost tempted to go 
out and play in the snow himself. 


.io6 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

“And now we’re going shopping!” announced 
Twaddles the next morning. “We have ever so 
much money, haven’t we, Meg?” 

“Is Meg the banker?” asked Father Blossom. 

“She carries the money,” explained Twaddles. 
“Dot has twenty-five cents and I have twenty, 
and Meg has forty and Bobby has — how much 
have you, Bobby?” 

“Fifty cents,” said Bobby. “I saved it.” 

“I could have earned ’bout fifty dollars, if 
Mother would let me,” sighed Dot. “But she 
wouldn’t.” 

“Why, Dot, dear, what are you talking 
about?” asked Mother Blossom, puzzled. “How 
could a little girl like you earn money?” 

“Errands,” said Dot briefly. “Folks wanted 
to give me pennies for errands every time; but 
you said we mustn’t take pennies.” 

“Not for doing little kindnesses,” declared 
Mother Blossom firmly. “Just remember the 
times the neighbors have given you cookies and 
cloth for doll dresses. Dot, and sent you postal 
cards from far away cities. I know you and 
Twaddles are both glad to do an errand now and 


Company Comes 107 

then for the Peabodys and the Wards and the 
Hiltons.” 

‘‘Why, of course they are,” said Father Blos- 
som. “And that reminds me, I have four shiny 
new quarters in my pocket that IVe been saving 
for you children. Perhaps that will help you 
with this Christmas shopping.” 

The four little Blossoms were sure it would, 
and when they started uptown soon after break- 
fast they felt very rich indeed. Meg carried 
the money in a beaded bag and Dot sat on the 
sled. They were sure they would need a sled 
to bring the bundles home on. It had stopped 
snowing but there was a thick, snowy blanket 
on every street and the sled pulled easily. 

“How many presents do we have to buy, 
Meg?” asked Dot, who certainly depended on 
Meg for a great deal of information. 

“Mother, Daddy, Norah, Sam, Twaddles, 
Bobby and me,” counted Meg on her fingers. 
“You have to buy seven presents.” 

“Eight, counting me,” said Dot. 

“You don’t buy a present for yourself,” Bobby 
reminded her. 


io8 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

“Oh, yes, that’s so, I don’t,” admitted Dot. 
“Well, -then does each of us have to buy seven 
presents?” 

“We’re forgetting Uncle Dave and Aunt 
Miranda,” said Meg. “It wouldn’t be nice to 
have them come see us Christmas and not have 
any presents. That makes nine.” 

Dear, dear, nine presents are a good many to 
buy and it took the four little Blossoms several 
minutes to decide how much they had to spend 
on each gift. They sat down on somebody’s 
doorstep while Bobby figured it out for them. 
He said they must spend exactly the same 
amount on each present because he couldn’t be 
working out arithmetic examples all morning. 

“Dot can spend five and one-tenth cents on 
each present,” announced Bobby after much 
hard work with a stubby pencil and a slip of 
paper from Meg’s bag. 

“I’d rather it came out even,” objected Dot. 

“It can’t,” Bobby informed her. “That’s 
arithmetic. Meg can spend seven and two- 
sixty-fifths cents.” 

“You can’t buy anything for that,” pouted 


Company Comes 109 

Meg. “I tell you what let’s do — divide up the 
presents; you get one for Norah and I’ll get 
one for Sam. And Dot can get something for 
Aunt Miranda, and Twaddles can get a present 
for Uncle David. Like that, you know.” 

The four little Blossoms thought this was a 
sensible plan, after they had talked it over, 
though Bobby said he wished Meg had thought 
of it before he done had so much arithmetic. 

‘T’m going to get a present for Mother and 
Daddy,” he added. 

Each of the children were determined to buy 
a present for Father and Mother Blossom, so 
that was understood, too. And when they 
reached the five-and-ten-cent store, they sepa- 
rated, because Christmas shopping should al- 
ways be a secret. Bobby left the sled with the 
boy who kept a paper stand next door, and 
he was the first one through with his shopping. 
He had to wait nearly half an hour and then 
Meg and Dot struggled out of the crowd to- 
gether, their arms full of small packages. 
Twaddles was the last one to come and he car- 


no Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

tied one large bundle that was so big around 
he could scarcely clasp his hands about it. 

‘‘Did you spend all your money for one 
thing?” asked Meg curiously, while they piled 
their purchases on the sled. 

“No, the others are inside of that,” replied 
Twaddles, gazing at his bundle with loving 
pride. “But you can’t see ’em.” 

The four little Blossoms ploughed home 
through the snow and that afternoon they were 
very busy, tying up packages in tissue paper and 
writing names on the pretty tags and seals 
Mother Blossom gave them. Mother Blossom 
herself was busy doing up Christmas gifts to 
mail and she had a whole sledful for the chil- 
dren to take to the post-ofBce late that afternoon. 
Among the parcels were several for Aunt Polly 
and one for Jud and another for Linda who 
lived with Aunt Polly at Brookside Farm. 

Tuesday would be Christmas, and Monday 
morning Uncle Dave and Aunt Miranda came. 
The four little Blossoms went with Father Blos- 
som in the car to the station to meet them. Meg 
and Bobby had seen them once, when Bobby was 


Company Comes 1 1 1 

three years old and Meg two, but, of course, 
they did not remember them clearly. 

“Well, well, well,” said Uncle Dave, when 
he saw the children almost tumbling out of the 
car to greet him. “So these are the four little 
Blossoms, eh? What goes round and round 
and never touches the sky or ground?” 

“What does?” asked Dot who loved riddles. 

“You do,” said Uncle Dave kissing her. “You 
haven’t had your feet on the ground two minutes 
since I first caught sight of you.” 

Uncle Dave was a rather tall old man, with 
slightly stooped shoulders and eyes that 
twinkled whenever he looked at anyone. He 
wore a soft felt hat with a high crown and a 
narrow, curving brim. Out of the pocket of 
his overcoat peeped a corncob pipe. Uncle 
Dave was very fond of his old cob pipe, the chil- 
dren soon discovered. 

Aunt Miranda was a tiny little old lady with 
snow white hair and snapping black eyes. She 
was so muffled up in shawls and scarfs and capes 
that no one realized how tiny she was till she 
was all “unwound,” as Bobby said. The first 


1 12 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

thing she did when they had reached the house 
and she had kissed Mother Blossom, was to put 
on a black silk apron and take her knitting out 
of the pocket. And during her visit no one ever 
saw Aunt Miranda without her knitting. She 
did not believe in idle hands. 

The four little Blossoms always trimmed their 
own Christmas tree, and right after lunch they 
went to work. Uncle Dave insisted on helping 
and he was so tall and had such long arms that 
he was every bit as good as a step-ladder. How 
he laughed when Twaddles, watching him ad- 
miringly, told him this. 

‘‘I must tell Aunt Miranda that,” he chuckled. 
^‘She always says I put things out of her reach. 
She is so short that what I put away on the closet 
shelves, she has to stand on a chair to get down.” 

The tree looked beautiful when it was all 
trimmed. Meg and Dot had strung the ropes 
of popcorn and the cranberries and Bobby and 
Uncle Dave had put on the gold and silver 
ornaments which were carefully saved from 
year to year. Twaddles always claimed the 
right to sprinkle the white cotton and mica on 


Company Comes 113 

for the snow, and just before dinner Father 
Blossom put the star at the top of the tree and 
Sam Layton came in to fix the electric lights. 
Norah had baked the gingerbread men which 
hung from the branches, and Mother Blossom 
and Aunt Miranda had made the candied ap- 
ples on sticks which helped to trim the tree. 
All the Blossom family had a hand in getting 
the tree ready, you see, which was one reason, 
perhaps, they always loved to have one. 

‘^Now we light it after dinner, and put all 
the other lights out,” Bobby explained to Aunt 
Miranda. “And then we hang up our stockings 
and then we go to bed.” 

And after dinner the tree was lighted, and the 
four little Blossoms marched around it, singing 
the Christmas carols they had learned. Then 
Mother Blossom helped them to hang up their 
stockings, four in a row, fastened to the mantle- 
piece — and very long and black and empty they 
looked, dangling there — and they said good- 
night and pattered upstairs to bed. 

Just before Mother Blossom tucked them in 


1 14 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

for the night, Bobby ran over to the window to 
look at the weather. 

‘Tt’s snowing some more!” he cried. ‘‘Twad- 
dles, Santa Claus won’t have a bit of trouble 
getting here; the roof will be covered with 
snow!” 

“If you hear him, you call me,” directed 
Twaddles. 

“Call me,” begged Dot sleepily from her bed. 
“I want to tell him something special.” 


CHAPTER X 


CHRISTMAS AT HOME 

W HATEVER it was Dot wanted to tell 
Santa Claus, he was not to hear it this 
Christmas. When the four little Blossoms woke 
Christmas morning, it was already light and 
they tumbled downstairs to find the four stock- 
ings bulging with knobby packages. They made 
so much noise that they awoke everyone else in 
the house and Norah served breakfast a half 
hour earlier than usual. 

“Could I open one bundle. Mother?” Twad- 
dles kept saying. “Could I open one bundle? 
Just that little square one. That doesn’t look 
exciting. Mother.” 

“That little square one happens to be marked 
with my name, young man,” said Father Blos- 
som, “and I don’t intend to have any surprises 
spoiled ahead of time.” 


ii6 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

The Blossom family never opened their 
Christmas gifts till after breakfast Christmas 
morning. The children had their stockings and 
that was supposed to keep them contented till 
it came time to open the parcels ; but often they 
thought they just could not wait another minute 
after the first peep at the little mountain of 
white paper packages under the tree. 

‘T declare, Twaddles, you remind me of a 
bumble bee on a hot griddle,” said Uncle Dave 
laughingly. “I never saw anyone in such a 
hurry to get through his breakfast; now I call 
these hot rolls first-rate and I need another cup 
of coffee, please, Margaret,” he added to Mother 
Blossom. 

“Dave, I think you’re real mean,” scolded 
Aunt Miranda, but she spoke so gently, no one 
thought she really meant to scold. “How can 
you sit there and drink another cup of that hot 
coffee when you know these children are count- 
ing the minutes till they can open their presents? 
It isn’t good for you to drink that much coffee, 
anyway.” 

“All right, I won’t take the second cup,” said 


Christmas at Home 117 

Uncle Dave meekly. ‘‘I seem to have had my 
breakfast, then, Margaret.” 

‘^May we be ’sensed. Mother?” shouted the 
four little Blossoms. “Please, Mother? Is it 
time to open the things now. Mother?” 

Mother Blossom laughed and said they would 
all go into the living room and look at their 
presents. And in ten minutes that beautiful, 
orderly room was a sea of white tissue paper 
and seals and string and pink and blue cotton. 
How Aunt Miranda laughed when she un- 
wrapped one canvas glove! 

“I couldn’t afford to buy two of them,” Dot 
explained, “because I had to buy a present for 
Mother and Daddy, too. But you can use one 
hand, can’t you. Aunt Miranda?” 

“Why, of course, I can,” Aunt Miranda said 
heartily. “I’ll wear it when I’m fussing with 
my garden this spring. Dot, and think of you 
every time I wear it.” 

Aunt Miranda had knitted a lovely scarf of 
brushed wool with mittens to match for each of 
the children, and a tam-o-shanter hat for Meg 
and one for Dot. The four little Blossoms were 


1 18 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

delighted with these, as they might well be. 
Dot’s set was of scarlet wool, Meg’s was a deli- 
cate blue, Bobby had brown and Twaddles’ set 
was a light buff color. Uncle Dave had whittled 
each of the boys a ship, and for Meg he had 
made a little chain of curious wooden beads and 
another smaller chain for Dot. 

It took a long time to see all the presents 
for there were a good many of them and every- 
one wanted to show his gifts to everyone else. 
Sam was very proud of the little diary Meg had 
given him and he promised to write in it every 
day; Norah laughed till she cried over the 
cologne bottle Bobby gave her for he had pulled 
the cork out to smell of it after he got it home 
and the cologne had either evaporated or had 
been spilled and the tiny bottle was quite empty. 
But as Norah said, when she thanked Bobby, it 
still smelled exactly like cologne. Twaddles 
had bought a pocket knife with six blades for 
Uncle Dave and not one of them would open. 
But Uncle Dave declared he liked that kind 
of a knife because it always looked well and yet 
there was no danger that he would cut himself. 


Christmas at Home 119 

Each of the four little Blossoms, with much 
panting and counting of their pennies, had man- 
aged to buy Father Blossom a present and an- 
other for Mother. 

“I’m so overcome I don’t know how to say 
‘thank you,’ ” announced Father Blossom when 
he had Bobby’s ash tray on the table beside him, 
Meg’s red stickpin in his tie. Dot’s paper weight 
on his desk in the den and the handkerchief 
Twaddles had given him in his pocket. 

Mother Blossom was delighted with the cup 
and saucer Meg gave her and she declared that 
the pin tray Bobby had chosen for her was ex- 
actly what she needed for her dresser and that 
Dot must have known she wanted another glass 
dish. But when she came to Twaddles’ present 
Mother Blossom looked puzzled. 

“What in the world can this be?” she said, 
unwrapping it slowly. 

They all crowded around her while she undid 
the paper and when she held up an enameled 
pot, such as Norah used to boil the potatoes in, 
everyone looked surprised. Except Twaddles. 

“Isn’t it nice?” he urged. “Course it has a 


120 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

little hole in it, but that was why I could buy it 
for ten cents. It used to be thirty cents, Mother. 
Don’t you like it?” 

‘Why, Twaddles, of course I do,” said 
Mother Blossom, kissing him. “I like it very 
much and you must have loved me dearly to 
buy such a large kettle. I’ll find some way to 
use it, even if there is a little hole in it.” 

After all the presents had been seen, and the 
four little Blossoms had so many toys and games 
that Father Blossom said folks must have made 
a mistake and thought they didn’t have a single 
thing to play with before. Mother Blossom re- 
minded them that they were to feed the birds. 
The children did this every year, tying pieces 
of suet to long strings and hanging these in the 
trees where the birds could easily find them. 
They also sprinkled plenty of bread-crumbs in 
dry sheltered places, off the ground so that no 
cats should bother the birds at dinner. 

“The snow’s awful deep,” said Bobby, stamp- 
ing in from helping to feed the birds. “Couldn’t 
we go coasting. Mother?” 

“After dinner, dear,” replied Mother Bios- 


Christmas at Home 121 

som* you went now, you would have to 
hurry back. After dinner you may all go and 
wear your new scarfs and mittens, too.” 

Christmas dinner was a wonderful affair, 
with a huge brown turkey and a plum pudding 
surrounded by a wreath of holly. Philip and 
Annabel Lee had an extra good meal, too, in the 
garage where they preferred to spend most of 
their time. Philip seemed to feel that he was 
really Sam’s dog and Annabel Lee liked to sleep 
on the old fur robe Sam kept especially for 
her. 

‘‘So you’re going coasting, hey?” said Uncle 
Dave, when after dinner the four little Blos- 
soms began to bundle themselves up and Bobby 
went down cellar and brought up the sleds. 
“Did you ever hear the story, Meg, about the 
little girl who coasted into a snow bank and 
wasn’t seen again till the next spring?” 

“Oh, no,” answered Meg, her eyes round with 
wonder. “Was she all dead, Uncle Dave?” 

“Mercy, I should hope not!” said Uncle Dave, 
his eyes twinkling more than ever. “You see. 


122 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

it was spring the next day by the calendar, 
though there was snow on the ground.” 

‘^Dave, you shouldn’t tease the children,” re- 
proved Aunt Miranda, coming into the hall 
and knitting as she walked. ‘‘They won’t know, 
pretty soon, when you are in earnest and when 
you’re not.” 

“I like to hear stories,” said Meg, pulling her 
tarn down over her yellow hair. “Don’t you 
want to come coasting, Uncle Dave?” 

“Well, no, I’d rather stay home and smoke,” 
replied Uncle Dave placidly. “I’ve had my 
day coasting. When I was the age of Dot, my 
father made me a sled and I went up on the roof 
and coasted off the woodshed and was in bed a 
week.” 

“I wouldn’t be putting such notions in the 
heads of children, Dave,” said Aunt Miranda, 
gently. “They’ll be wanting to coast off the 
roof next.” 

“No, we can’t,” said Twaddles sadly. “We 
haven’t any woodshed.” 

The four little Blossoms had two sleds, just 
alike; one for Meg and Dot and the other for 


Christmas at Home 


123 


Bobby and Twaddles. Wayne Place Hill was 
the finest coasting spot in Oak Hill and when 
they reached it this afternoon, they found a 
crowd of girls and boys already enjoying the 
fun. Some of them had new Christmas sleds 
and some, like the four little Blossoms, had sleds 
that were almost new and some had old, old 
sleds that were battered and scarred and tied up 
with rope to make them last. And, strange to 
say, the children who had the oldest sleds 
seemed to be having as good a time as the ones 
with brand-new shiny sleds. 

Meg was immediately surrounded by little 
girls who wanted her to “take us down.” Meg 
was only six years old, but she could steer a 
sled as well as Bobby and her small friends knew 
it. 

“Don’t take Hester,” said Marion Green to 
Meg. “She always screams and makes folks 
think she is hurt. And once she grabbed my 
brother and pulled him right over backward.” 

Marion Green and Hester Scott were both in 
Meg’s class at school. Hester was a fat little 


124 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

girl and generally smiling. But now she looked 
ready to cry. 

haven’t been down the hill once this whole 
afternoon,” she declared. “I’ll lend Dot my 
sled, Meg, if you’ll take me down. And I won’t 
scream a tiny bit, honestly I won’t.” 

“All right. I’ll take you,” said Meg briefly. 
“Let Dot have your sled and she can play round 
with it till I come back. She can’t coast down 
alone either.” 

Hester knelt on the sled behind Meg, and 
Bobby obligingly gave them a send-off push. 
The moment she felt the rush of air, Hester 
forgot her promise. 

“Stop it!” she begged. “Oh, Meg, please 
stop. I can’t breathe! Ow! Somebody stop 
us! Ow, we’re going to hit that red sled! Oh, 
Meg, please, please ” 

She flung her arms around Meg’s neck and 
leaned back with her whole weight. Up came 
Meg’s hands, the sled shot to one side and the 
two girls tumbled off into the snow. 

“I told you so! I told you so!” Marion kept 
saying as she ran down toward them, and Dot 


Christmas at Home 


125 

and Twaddles and Bobby came running, too. 
^‘She always does that.” 

‘T don’t either!” protested Hester. “But I 
couldn’t breathe or anything, and I was scared.” 

“That’s just like a girl,” said Fred Baldwin in 
disgust. “They always get scared.” 

“Who always gets scared?” asked Stanley 
Reeves, one of the high school boys, hearing this 
sentence as he was passing the group on his way 
up hill. 

“Why, I don’t think girls are all like that at 
all,” said Stanley, when he had heard Fred’s 
explanation. “I tell you what we’ll do — ^we’ll 
clear the hill and let the girls have a race. Any 
girl who is willing to steer her own sled may 
enter. Come on back to the top and we’ll settle 
this little matter.” 

Fred Baldwin walked beside Bobby. 

“Say, Bobby,” he said in an undertone. 
“Palmer and Bertrand and I want to see you 
about something. Can you come over tomor- 
row?” 

“Is it about the fire?” asked Bobby in quick 
alarm. “Has Mr. Bennett said anything more?” 


126 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

“Yes, he has,” admitted Fred. “I can’t tell 
you now. You come over to my house tomorrow 
morning.” 

“You come over to our house,” suggested 
Bobby. “Bring the boys. I said I’d help the 
children start a snowman in the yard. We can 
go out in the garage and talk and nobody will 
hear us.” 

Fred said they would come and then he hur- 
ried on to watch the coasting race. But Bobby’s 
pleasure in the sport was spoiled. He began to 
worry again about the fire in the carpenter shop. 
What had Mr. Bennett been saying? 


CHAPTER XI 


MR, WHITE 

S TANLEY was as good as his word and he 
and several other high school lads kept the 
coasters off while ten small girls, all who were 
willing to try their skill at steering, started down 
the hill when he gave the word. Two of them 
capsized almost at once, three lasted half way 
down, one ran into a gutter and of the four who 
reached the bottom of the hill safely, Meg was 
the first. 

‘‘You’re the winner,” Stanley informed her. 
“And I didn’t see any of those who fell off act 
as though frightened. What do you have to say 
for yourself, Fred?” 

“Oh, well, girls are different,” said Fred, 
looking at Meg admiringly. 

“But you said they always get scared,” insisted 
Stanley relentlessly. 

“I meant some of them do,” said Fred un- 
easily. 


127 


128 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

And then Stanley took pity on him and invited 
all the ten little girls to have a coast on his bob- 
sled which was certainly the largest and swiftest 
sled on the hill. 

The four little Blossoms left Wayne Place 
Hill when the town clock struck five and all 
the way home they talked of what they meant 
to do during the holidays. That is Meg and 
Dot and Twaddles talked, but Bobby remained 
silent. 

‘T hope there will be skating,” said Meg. ‘Tf 
there is anything I love it is skating. I don’t 
know which is more fun, skating or coasting.” 

like skating better,” declared Twaddles. 
‘‘Don’t you. Dot?” 

“Yes,” agreed Dot, “I do. And I’m going to 
ask Daddy to buy us some skates. I’m sure we’re 
old enough to have ’em this year.” 

“But you don’t either of you know how to 
skate,” said Meg. “So how do you know you 
like it better than coasting?” 

They argued about this the rest of the way 
home and were still at it when they trooped into 
the living room, where Aunt Miranda and her 


Mr, White 


129 

knitting and Uncle Dave with his corncob pipe, 
sat before the fire. 

“Have a good time?” Uncle Dave asked the 
four little Blossoms. “You did? That’s fine. I 
don’t suppose you looked in the oven as you 
came through the kitchen to see what we’re 
going to have for supper?” 

Twaddles offered at once to go and see. Aunt 
Miranda was shocked at Uncle Dave and he sat 
there and laughed so much Meg and Dot had to 
laugh with him. Even Bobby smiled, though 
he was still serious. 

“What ails Bobby, Mother?” asked Twaddles 
suddenly. “I guess he has something on his 
mind.” 

Twaddles had heard some older person say 
this, but it was too near the truth to be comfort- 
able for Bobby. 

“Mother,” he said, trying to look over Twad- 
dles’ head, “Mother, is there any place in this 
house where a person can think?” 

“Just what I’ve often wondered. Son,” said 
Father Blossom, coming into the room. “If you 
find such a place, let me know.” 


130 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

“Supper’s ready,” announced Mother Blos- 
som, smiling, “and you’ll have to wait till after- 
ward to think. I know you children are hungry, 
in spite of Christmas dinner, after all that coast- 
ing.” 

Supper finished, Bobby forgot that he had 
wanted a quiet place in which to think, for 
they all gathered around the glowing fire and 
Uncle Dave and Aunt Miranda told stories of 
the Christmas days they remembered years and 
years ago, when they were little. Some of the 
stories were most exciting, and Twaddles’ eyes 
were as “large as saucers” Aunt Miranda said, 
when she told them of standing outside the 
house when she was a tiny girl and having a 
slide of snow from the roof strike her and bury 
her out of sight. 

“I thought you were going to build a snow- 
man,” said Uncle Dave, the story apparently 
reminding him of snow figures. “Didn’t I hear 
something about a snowman yesterday?” 

“We’re going to build him tomorrow morn- 
ing,” replied Meg. “Can’t we. Mother? Just 
you wait till you see him. Uncle Dave.” 


Mr. White 


13 1 

Though the children went to bed early so 
that they might feel like getting up the next 
morning and going to work at the snowman, 
they did not begin to build him till after lunch. 
Father Blossom offered to take everyone for a 
long ride in the car as soon as they finished 
breakfast and they did not get back till half-past 
twelve. 

^‘Come on, we’re going to build the snow- 
man!” cried Meg, hurrying into the hall for 
her hat and coat as soon as they were through 
luncheon. ‘‘You watch, Uncle Dave, and we’ll 
build him close to the house; you can see from 
the back windows.” 

“I’ll come look after a bit,” said Uncle Dave. 
“I have to have a little nap afternoons, you 
know. Been working so hard this morning, I’m 
all tuckered out.” 

So Uncle Dave lay down on the big sofa to 
enjoy a little nap and Aunt Miranda sat beside 
him and knitted, while the four little Blossoms 
went seriously to work to build the best snow- 
man they had ever built. 

“We want him nice,” said Meg, beginning 


132 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

to help Bobby roll a snowball for his body. 
“Uncle Dave is going home tomorrow. He 
said so. And we want to show him we know 
how to build snowmen.” 

“I think he’s lovely,” said Dot, when Bobby 
put another snowball on for the head and began 
to make holes for the eyes. “Per-fectly lovely. 
Daddy, see our snowman! Isn’t he nice?” 

The car had stopped at the curb and Dot’s 
quick eyes had spied her father. He came 
toward them, around the side of the house, and 
smiled when he saw what they were doing. 

“Well, well, that is a mighty fine snowman,” 
he said. “Mighty fine. What do you call him, 
Meg?” 

Meg was always expected to name any new 
pet or a new doll, and why not a snowman, too? 
The three other children looked at her confix 
dently, sure that she would be able to think of a 
name. 

“His name,” said Meg slowly, “his name is — 
let me think a minute; oh, I guess his name is 
Mr. White!” 

Father Blossom laughed and kissed her, and 


Mr. White 


133 


Bobby said he thought that was a splendid name. 

‘‘Are you going to stay home, Daddy?” asked 
Meg, clinging to Father Blossom. “Or are you 
going to take us somewhere?” 

“Neither,” he answered promptly. “I came 
home to get some papers from my desk and then 
Sam is going to drive me over to Clifton; I’m 
not sure what condition the roads are in and I 
don’t think it wise to take anyone else. I’m 
glad you’re having such a good time.” 

He went into the house and came out the back 
way again, in a few moments. 

“Meg,” he called over his shoulder as he 
walked to the car, “why don’t you get Mr. 
White a hat to keep him from taking cold, 
and a pipe to keep his nose warm? He ought to 
have some comforts, you know.” 

“Could we get him a hat?” asked Meg 
doubtfully. “Oh, Bobby, there’s Fred and Pal- 
mer and Bertrand. Don’t go off and play with 
them, please ; stay and play with us.” 

The three boys came into the yard and Dot 
disappeared toward the house. She had a way 


134 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

of slipping off when she thought of something 
she wanted to do. 

‘‘Gee, that’s a pretty good snowman,” said 
Fred, looking at Mr. White with great respect. 
“I think he’s the biggest one I ever saw.” 

“Yes, he’s pretty good,” chimed in Palmer^ 
“Who built him?” 

“We all did,” said Bobby proudly. “For 
goodness’ sake, what’s that, Dot?” 

Dot was out of breath from running and in 
her hand she held an odd-shaped soft felt hat 
and a corncob pipe. 

“Put ’em on Mr. White, Bobby,” she urged. 
“The way Daddy said.” 

“Isn’t that Uncle Dave’s pipe?” asked Bobby. 
“Yes, but he’s asleep; he doesn’t need it when 
he’s asleep,” said Dot. 

So Bobby ran and borrowed a chair from 
Norah and stood on it to put the hat on Mr. 
White and place the pipe in his mouth. To be 
sure he stuck the pipe in upside down, but no 
one thought that made any difference. 

“That’s great!” said Palmer Davis. But he 


Mr. White 135 

looked at Bobby as though he were trying to tell 
him something. 

“You go over to the garage and I’ll be there 
in a minute,” directed Bobby. “I have to take 
this chair back to the kitchen.” 

The three boys went oflf to the garage 
whistling and Bobby climbed back on the chair 
to fix Mr. White’s hat more firmly, wondering 
what in the world they wanted to say to him. 

“Lend me your necktie. Twaddles,” he said 
suddenly. “Who ever heard of a man without 
a necktie?” 

Twaddles took off his red tie and gave it to 
Bobby who tied it around the snowman’s neck 
in a twinkling. And then, before he could get 
down from the chair, the four little Blossoms 
heard Aunt Miranda calling. She had come 
out on the back porch with an apron thrown 
around her head to keep her from taking cold. 

“Meg, Meg,” she called. “Have you seen 
anything of Uncle Dave’s hat? And his pipe is 
gone, too. He can’t remember what he did 
with that.” 

Meg looked at Dot and Dot looked at the 


136 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

sky. But before anyone could say a word, Aunt 
Miranda saw Mr. White and his hat and pipe. 
How she did laugh ! She ran into the house to 
tell Uncle Dave to come and look, and he came 
to the door and Norah, too. Uncle Dave had 
finished his nap and decided to come out and see 
what the children were doing and that was when 
he missed his hat and pipe. 

“But I wouldn’t think of disturbing a gentle- 
man who needs ’em worse than I do,” he said 
merrily. “Leave ’em be till tonight, and let 
your father see how you’ve taken his advice. I 
don’t want the hat till after supper, anyway.” 

Leaving Meg and the twins to admire their 
snowman, Bobby dashed off to the garage. He 
felt that he could not wait another moment to 
hear what the boys wanted to tell him. They 
were waiting for him with sober faces and Fred 
looked around as though he feared someone 
might be listening, as he whispered, “I heard 
that Mr. Bennett wants to have us all arrested!” 

Bobby had not heard a word, but Palmer and 
Fred had overheard two men talking in the back 
of a shoemaker’s shop the day before Christmas, 


Mr. White 


137 


as they waited for a pair of shoes to be mended. 

‘‘He keeps saying we did it, and he doesn’t 
mean to wait much longer,” said Palmer. “Do 
you suppose they’ll put us in prison, Bobby?” 

“I — I guess so,” nodded Bobby gloomily. 
“That is, if they catch us. Say, why don’t we 
run away?” 

This was a new idea, but the other three boys 
liked it at once. Before they left the garage, 
their plans were all made to run away that night. 
There was no use waiting, Bobby said. 

“I’ll meet you at the corner, at ten o’clock,” 
he said. “And we can’t carry much baggage. 
We can’t run with a trunk, and we may have to 
run.” 

“Do we say good-bye to anyone?” asked Fred. 

“Not a single person,” said Bobby, “Not 
even your mother. And remember not to bang 
the front door. Daddy is going to lodge meet- 
ing tonight, I think, so I can get away easily.” 

After the boys had gone, Bobby did not go 
back to where Meg and the twins were playing 
with Mr. White. Instead he went upstairs and 
began to pack. He spread out a clean handker- 


138 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

chief on the window sill in his room and in it he 
put his pocket-knife, the one Twaddles always 
wanted to borrow, two gum drops that were so 
hard he had never expected to eat them, the 
watch spring Uncle Dave had given him and 
which he meant to use in an ^hnvention” some 
day, and a piece of soft, kneaded rubber. These 
were the things he liked best and he thought 
they would all be useful on a journey. 

‘What red cheeks Bobby has!” said Mother 
Blossom at dinner that night. “I do hope he 
hasn’t taken cold, playing in the snow.” 

“I’m all right,” declared Bobby, wishing that 
everyone would not look at him. He was afraid 
they would see that he was excited because he 
was going to run away. 


CHAPTER XII 


RUNNING AWAY 

A S it happened, Bobby could not have 
chosen a better night for running away. 
That is, for running away without being found 
out. Father Blossom hurried off to his lodge 
meeting directly after dinner, and then the tele- 
phone bell rang and Mrs. Ward, a neighbor who 
lived near, asked Mother Blossom and Uncle 
Dave and Aunt Miranda to come over to her 
house and spend the evening. 

“I ought to be packing our things,” said Aunt 
Miranda, when Mother Blossom told her. “But 
we’re not going till the eleven o’clock train, and 
I suppose I’ll have time in the morning; I’d 
like to go, Margaret, and so would Dave.” 

That left Norah in charge of the house and 
of the four litttle Blossoms, and she sent them 
to bed the minute the clock struck eight. Norah 

believed that all children should go to bed early 
139 


140 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

and it never did any good to coax her to let one 
stay up a single second past bedtime hour. She 
waited till they were all in bed, then put out the 
lights in their rooms, raised the windows and 
went downstairs to read her paper in the kitchen., 

‘‘It’s an awful long time till ten o’clock,” said 
Bobby to himself, crawling out of bed as soon 
as he heard Norah close the door at the foot 
of the back stairs. “I hope I don’t go to sleep 
before it’s time to start.” 

Bobby had not meant to undress, for when he 
and the boys talked it over they had decided that 
the best way would be to go to bed fully dressed 
and then pull the covers up and if anyone peeped 
into their bedrooms they would look as usual. 
But Bobby had reckoned without Norah who 
announced that she expected to see clothes 
“folded up as they belong on chairs and not scat- 
tered all about.” Bobby knew that if Norah 
went through his room and saw no clothes neatly 
folded she would immediately want to know 
where they were. So he had had to undress and 
get into his pajamas as he always did. 

Bobby had a small room to himself, while the 


Running Away 1411 

twins slept in a larger connecting room and Meg 
had her own little room. 

‘‘I s’pose Meg will be kind of sorry,” said 
Bobby, trying to dress quietly, and without snap- 
ping on the light. “But she would be sorrier if 
I stayed here and Mr. Bennett put me in prison. 
Mother wouldn’t like that, either. I wonder 
what Mr. Bennett will say when he finds we’ve 
gone.” 

As soon as he was dressed, Bobby tiptoed into 
Mother Blossom’s room to look at her little 
ivory clock. It was only half-past eight! 

“I wish I’d told the fellows nine o’clock,” 
thought Bobby. “But there would be a lot of 
people coming home from the movies then and 
they might see us. I guess I can read till a 
quarter of, and then I’ll go.” 

He found a magazine on the table by the bed 
and he took that and Father Blossom’s pocket 
flashlight which lay near and went back into 
his own room and lay down on the floor and read 
the stories, not daring to turn on the electric 
light lest someone come home and see a light in 
his room when he was supposed to be asleep. 


142 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

He had to put the quilt over him, because, even 
though he had closed the window, the room was 
cold. Norah had carefully turned off the heat 
before she went downstairs. 

Bobby was so wide awake that he knew he 
wouldn’t go to sleep and he was very much sur- 
prised when his head struck the floor with a 
bump. 

“Why — I guess I went to sleep!” he whis- 
pered. “I hope it isn’t after ten o’clock!” 

He hurried across the hall to look at the 
ivory clock. It said twenty minutes of ten« 
Bobby’s heart thumped a little as he went back 
to his room and felt around for the handkerchief 
he had tied up that afternoon and hidden on the 
floor of his closet. He found it and then crept 
carefully into the hall, afraid that Dot would 
hear him and call out. She was a light sleeper 
and woke easily. 

“I’ll slide down the banisters,” he decided 
when he reached the stairs. “Then the stairs 
can’t creak and make a noise.” 

Once in the downstairs hall, it was easy to 
get his hat and coat and rubber boots. A light 


143 


Running Away 

shone under the kitchen door, proof that Norah 
was still there. Probably she would sit up till 
Mother Blossom came home. Bobby let himself 
out of the front door and closed it very gently. 
Then he was possessed to run around to the back 
of the house and make sure that Norah had not 
taken it into her head to go upstairs and look for 
him. 

‘^Oh — my I” gasped Bobby with a half grunt 
as he turned the corner of the house. He had 
walked into Mr. White, whose existence he had 
forgotten. There was no moon and the dark 
was pretty black until one got used to it. 

Bobby walked around the snowman and then 
he could see the light streaming from the kitchen 
windows. Norah seldom pulled down the 
shades. He could see her sitting at the table, 
her paper propped up against her mending bas- 
ket. Sam sat on the other side of the table, read- 
ing a book. Philip was stretched out before 
the fire, and Annabel Lee dozed in a cushioned 
rocking chair. 

‘‘Sam could take us in the car,” thought 
Bobby, carefully picking his way out of the 


144 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

yard. “He could take us to — to Mexico, I 
guess! But he’d want to tell Daddy first, and 
Daddy wouldn’t let us go, maybe.” 

There were not many street lights in Oak Hill 
and the street where the Blossoms lived was not 
much traveled after dark. So Bobby had to go 
slowly, feeling his way till he reached the corner 
where an arc light burned. 

“Hello, Bobby!” whispered a voice, and Fred 
Baldwin stepped out of the shadows. Palmer 
Davis was behind him. 

“Where’s Bertrand?” asked Bobby. 

“Hasn’t come yet — he’s always late,” said 
Fred, who thought that everyone should be as 
prompt as he was. 

“Maybe he can’t get away,” said Palmer 
mildly. “My mother most caught me as I was 
going out the door. Suppose she had !” 

“Your father go to lodge meeting?” Fred 
asked Bobby. “So’d mine and Palmer’s too, 
and I think Bertrand’s father was going. Won- 
der where he is now.” 

Fred meant Bertrand, not his father, and just 


Running Away 145 

as he finished speaking, that small boy came up 
to them, panting. 

‘‘I ran all the way,” he said. “Is it late? My 
mother had company in the parlor and my big 
sister was making candy in the kitchen. So I 
couldn’t get out till I thought of sliding down 
the porch trellis.” 

“Wasn’t it icy?” asked Bobby. 

“Oh, yes, it was icy,” admitted Bertrand 
cheerfully. “But I don’t care, long as I got 
here!” 

“Where we going?” asked Fred, looking at 
Bobby for directions. 

“I think we’d better walk till we come to a 
barn,” planned Bobby. “Folks always sleep in 
a barn when they run away from home.” 

“Where’ll we get anything to eat?” suggested 
Palmer Davis. “I’m hungry already.” 

“I brought some buns,” said Bertrand, hastily 
untying a small package he carried. “We can 
eat these as we go along.” 

They started to walk uptown, keeping close 
together and munching the buns as they walked. 
The packed snow deadened the noise of their 


146 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

footfalls and there was not a sound anywhere. 
Here and there a light shone out from the 
houses they passed, but most folk in Oak Hill 
went to bed before ten o’clock unless there hap- 
pened to be a party. 

“Mr. Bennett has a watchman all night at the 
shop,” said Bertrand presently. “I saw him 
when I came out of our house. He has a little 
shanty to stay in and a stove to keep him warm.” 

“What’s he supposed to do?” asked Bobby, 
wishing that everything didn’t look so queer and 
spooky at night. 

“Why, the grocery boy says Mr. Bennett is 
trying to get more insurance and he won’t have 
anything touched till that’s settled,” explained 
Bertrand, who certainly heard everything that 
was ever said anywhere in his vicinity. “He 
thinks we’ll come pawing over the ruins, the 
grocery boy says.” 

They had reached the business section of the 
town now and Bobby, looking ahead, made out 
the dim outline of a figure coming toward them. 
They would meet under the next arc light, un- 
less the boys could hide. 


147 


Running Away 

“Sh — there’s somebody coming!” he whis- 
pered. ‘‘We don’t want ’em to see us. Let’s 
cross over to the other side.” 

“That’ll look funny,” objected Fred. “Just 
walk ahead and don’t say anything or look up ; 
nobody will know us.” 

Alas for Fred’s hope! To Bobby’s terror and 
despair, as he was doggedly tramping past the 
stranger, his coat collar turned up and his hands 
deep in his pockets, he felt a grasp on his 
shoulder. 

“Robert!” said Father Blossom’s voice 
sternly, “what are you doing out here at this 
time of night?” 

The boys stopped as if they had been shot, and 
poor Bobby turned furiously on Fred. 

“I told you we ought to have crossed over,” 
he said angrily. “Now see what you’ve done!” 

“But what are you doing?” asked Father 
Blossom. “That’s more important. Does 
Mother know where you are, Bobby?” 

“No, not exactly,” admitted Bobby. 

“I’ve just left your father, Fred,” said Father 


148 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

Blossom, recognizing Fred in the dim light. 
‘‘Does he know you are uptown?” 

Fred stood on one foot and then the other and 
finally muttered that he supposed he didn’t. 

Father Blossom touched the knotted hand- 
kerchief Bobby carried, gently. 

“What is this. Son?” he asked. 

“Things,” said Bobby uncomfortably. “My 
knife and the kneaded rubber, and — and some 
more things.” 

“Are you running away?” said Father Blos- 
som and the suddenness of the question took 
Bobby by surprise. The other boys stared in 
astonishment at Bobby’s father. How in the 
>vorld had he managed to guess so quickly? 

“I see you are,” said Father Blossom, as no 
no one answered. “And what are you running 
away from, boys?” 

“Mr. Bennett,” said Bobby jerkily. “He says 
he’s going to have us arrested.” 

“And we’ll have to go to prison,” put in Pal- 
mer Davis. 

Father Blossom looked at the circle of wor- 


Running Away 149 

ried little faces and smiled. Then he became 
very grave. 

doubt very much if Mr. Bennett will have 
you arrested,” he said. have heard a new 
story tonight that puts the blame on some 
tramps seen hanging around the shop after you 
boys went in to get your ball. There is too much 
doubt about the affair for Mr. Bennett to risk 
getting out warrants. But, suppose he did : do 
you think I want my son, and would your fathers 
want you, to run away instead of facing this 
trouble and seeing it through?” 

“But I thought you wouldn’t like me to be 
arrested,” cried Bobby. “And all the girls in 
school would tease Meg.” 

“I don’t want you arrested,” said Father Blos- 
som earnestly, “and Meg would feel very bad 
if that should happen and so would Mother. 
But, Bobby, that would be something you could 
not help. People can not help getting into 
trouble sometimes, but they can always help 
being afraid. You are running away because 
you are afraid of what may happen.” 

Bobby and the other boys were silent. 


150 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

good soldier always faces the music,” said 
Father Blossom. “Surely you are not going 
to turn your backs and run?” 

Bobby looked from Palmer to Fred and then 
at Bertrand. They looked gloomy but not 
frightened. 

“All right,” sighed Bobby, “we’ll go back. 
Nobody can say we are cowards.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


CHARLOTTE GORDON'S PARTY 

U NCLE DAVE and Aunt Miranda went 
home the next morning. They did not 
know that Bobby had almost run away. Neither 
did Meg and the twins. Mother Blossom knew, 
for Father Blossom told her. But she only 
hugged Bobby when she came into his room to 
call him the next morning and whispered that 
he must never think of running away and leav- 
ing her, no matter what happened. 

‘T couldn’t get along without my big boy,” she 
said earnestly. 

Bobby and Father Blossom had reached 
home before Mother Blossom and Uncle Dave 
and Aunt Miranda came in from Mrs. Ward’s, 
so Bobby had been spared any explanations. He 
himself told Meg several weeks afterward and 
she was much surprised to hear what he had 
planned to do. 


1^2 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

The carpenter apparently had not made up 
his mind that the boys were responsible for 
the destruction of his shop, for he caused no 
arrests to be made. Father Blossom and Fred’s 
father found out that one of the tramps seen 
around the shop was supposed to have once 
worked for Mr. Bennett, but beyond that they 
could not get a description of the men. 

“But if they set fire to the shop, we’ll find 
them,” said Father Blossom. “You tell the boys 
to stop worrying over this, Bobby. No one is 
going to do anything to you, and sooner or later 
you’ll hear that Mr. Bennett has discovered who 
burned down his shop.” 

A cold snap that brought wonderful skating 
helped Bobby and his chums to forget their 
troubles. And when Charlotte Gordon, one of 
the girls in Bobby’s class at school, sent out invi- 
tations for a New Year’s party, they were sure 
that nothing could ever bother them again. 

“Isn’t she nice to ask me!” exclaimed Meg, 
when she came home from the ice pond one 
afternoon to find two square pink invitations on 
the hall table, one addressed to Bobby and one 


Charlotte Gordon’s Party 153 

to herself. “Hester Scott told me this morning 
that she invited all your class, Bobby, but I’m 
in the next grade. Hester didn’t get an invita- 
tion.” 

“I suppose Charlotte thought it would be nice 
to ask you, because of Bobby,” said Mother 
Blossom. “When I was a little girl I always 
went to parties with my brother.” 

“But she forgot us!” chorused the twins ex- 
citedly. “Can’t we go. Mother?” Maybe Char- 
lotte didn’t know about us.” 

Mother Blossom laughed and said she thought 
that Charlotte knew about Dot and Twaddles. 

“You wouldn’t have much fun at this party, 
dears,” she told the disappointed youngsters. 
“The children who are asked are several years 
older than you; I’ll tell you what we’ll do when 
Meg and Bobby go to the party. We’ll have 
one of our own. Dot may set the dolls’ table and 
Norah will give her something good to eat and 
I will come upstairs and play with you myself. 
How will that please you?” 

The twins loved to have Mother Blossom 
play with them and they did not mind about the 


154 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

party with such a pleasant day to look forward 
to. Although New Year’s Day was nearly a 
week off, Dot teased Norah to tell her what 
they could have to eat and Twaddles helped to 
set the doll table so many times that he broke 
two of the cups and saucers. 

“Going to Charlotte Gordon’s party?” asked 
Fred Baldwin when he met Bobby in the grocery 
store the morning after the invitations had been 
sent out. “You are? So’m I. But what do you 
think, she’s asked Tim Roon and Charlie Black. 
I wouldn’t have them at my birthday party last 
summer; they’re too mean to invite to a party, 
I think.” 

“Maybe Charlotte is polite ’cause she is a 
girl,” ventured Bobby. 

“Shucks, it’s just because they’re in our class,” 
retorted Fred. “She could have left them out, as 
well as not. But she invited every single boy 
and girl. Meg’s the only one asked outside the 
class.” 

Meg was much pleased when she heard this. 

“I think Charlotte is lovely,” she said. “And 


Charlotte Gordon’s Party 155 

why shouldn’t she invite Tim Roon and Charlie 
Black? I guess they like to go to parties.” 

^‘Well, I hope they know how to act,” re- 
marked Bobby. ‘^But I don’t believe they do.” 

New Year’s Day finally came — though Meg 
and Bobby thought it never would — and in the 
afternoon they went gaily off to Charlotte’s 
party. Very nice they looked, too, Meg in a 
white wool frock and wearing blue hair-ribbons 
and her beloved blue locket which she had lost 
and found the winter before. Bobby wore his 
best suit and shiny patent leather shoes. 

‘We’re going to have a party, too!” the twins 
called after them, and Meg and Bobby turned to 
wave their hands to show that they understood. 

Charlotte Gordon lived in the largest house 
in Oak Hill. The Gordons had moved to Oak 
Hill from Chicago and everyone liked them for, 
although they had a great deal of money and 
kept three cars and a staff of servants, Mrs. 
Gordon did not forget or try to make other peo- 
ple forget that her father had kept the grocery 
store in Oak Hill for years and that she had gone 
to school with many of the Oak Hill folk. She 


156 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

sent her daughter to the same school now, and 
Charlotte was a lovely little girl, dark-eyed and 
pretty and with her mother’s own charming 
manners and way of keeping friends. 

‘T’m so glad you could come,” said Mrs. Gor- 
don kissing Meg as she met her in the hall. 
“Charlotte will show you where to put your 
things, dear. Bobby, you’ll find some of the 
boys upstairs who will tell you where to go.” 

Upstairs in Charlotte’s room Meg found a 
little group of girls shaking out their hair-rib- 
bons and comparing dresses and slippers. 

“What a darling locket!” said Eleanor Gray, 
when Meg took off her coat. “I never saw one 
like it.” 

“It belonged to my great-aunt Dorothy,” ex- 
plained Meg. “My Aunt Polly gave it to me. 
I love it because it’s blue.” 

In a room across the hall, Bobby found the 
boys. He knew them all because he saw them 
every day in school. Fred and Bertrand and 
Palmer were there and Tim Roon and Charlie 
Black who were already trying to do hand- 


Charlotte Gordon’s Party 157 

springs over the beautiful carved mahogany bed 
with its blue satin cover. 

‘^Come on downstairs and don’t act foolish,” 
growled Palmer, as Tim landed in the center of 
the bed. ^That’s no way to behave at a party.” 

guess I know how to act as well as you do,” 
retorted Tim. ‘^But I’m ready to go down. I 
I want to tell Mrs. Gordon to have the fire ex- 
tinguishers ready in case of a fire.” 

Bobby colored angrily, but Fred pinched him 
to remind him to keep still. 

“Wait till we get him outside, and we can 
punch him,” whispered Fred. “But I don’t 
think it would be very nice to start a row in 
here.” 

Bobby didn’t think so, either, and with an 
effort he kept from “talking back” to Tim. 
Everyone went downstairs and Mrs. Gordon 
announced that they would have a Virginia reel 
first. 

“Everyone can dance that,” she said. “I’ll 
play for you. And you must keep your partners 
for the first game.” 

To Meg’s surprise, and small pleasure, Tim 


158 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

Roon asked her to dance with him. She wanted 
Bobby for her partner for she did not know how 
to dance well, but Meg was a polite little girl 
and she did not know how to refuse Tim without 
offending him. She did not enjoy the reel very 
much, though, for Tim was clumsy and stepped 
on her feet often and besides he tormented her 
by twitching her hair-ribbon whenever he 
thought no one would see him. 

“Now we’re going to play a game,” an- 
nounced kind Mrs. Gordon when the dance was 
finished. “Keep the same partners you had for 
the reel, children. All sit on the floor in a cir- 
cle, and close your eyes. I am going to pass 
something around and let you guess what it is 
by smelling it.” 

The children sat down in a circle, Tim on one 
side of Meg, Charlie Black on the other. Mrs. 
Gordon went around back of them and held 
a small bottle for each one to smell. Such wild 
guesses! Fred Baldwin thought it was cam- 
phor, and Bobby was sure it was cologne. 

“I think it’s vinegar,” said Meg when her 
turn came. 


159 


Charlotte Gordon’s Party 

She had guessed it and she guessed the next 
test, also, which was a pickle cut up in tiny bits 
so that each child had a taste. If you think you 
can tell a pickle every time, try it some day 
when your eyes are closed and you have not seen 
what you are going to eat. 

‘We’ll let Meg test you for the sense of 
touch,” said Mrs. Gordon, smiling. “Give 
them something of yours to feel, Meg, and see 
if they can guess what it is.” 

Without hesitation, Meg unclasped her locket 
and passed it around the circle. No one could 
guess what it was. Tim Roon was the last to 
handle it and finally he “gave up.” 

“It was my locket,” explained Meg dimpling. 
And then Mrs. Gordon said they would play 
another game. 

This was to answer “Happy New Year” to 
every question asked without laughing and they 
had been playing several minutes before Meg 
realized that Tim had not given her back her 
locket. She waited till the game was over and 
then asked him for it. 

“I haven’t your locket,” said Tim. “I gave 


i6o Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

it back to you. Have you gone and lost it 
again?” 

Meg was sure he had not given it back, but 
she looked about the room carefully. She could 
not find it. When they marched out to supper 
it was still missing and she was afraid to say 
anything to Bobby who did not like Tim Roon, 
she knew. 

^‘He might hit him, or something,” reasoned 
Meg. “I know I didn’t lose my locket, but folks 
might think I did. I lost it once and they think 
I’m careless, I guess.” 

She could not half enjoy the delicious goodies 
and when they went back to play more games 
after supper, Meg stole away by herself to have 
a little cry. She had hidden herself in one of 
the big leather chairs in the book-lined room 
across the hall which was Mr. Gordon’s library 
and she was sobbing quietly when suddenly a 
deep voice said, ‘Well, bless me, and who is 
this?” 

A tall, gray-haired gentleman stood looking 
down at her. Meg knew he must be Mr. Gor- 
don. When he found she couldn’t stop crying 


Charlotte Gordon’s Party i6i 

he sat down and took her on his lap and by and 
by Meg found she could tell him about the lost 
locket and Tim and Bobby. 

“And I did lose it once,” she explained, “and 
perhaps I lost it this time, but I know I didn’t.” 

“You stay here,” said Mr. Gordon shortly. 

He went away and in a few minutes he came 
back and Tim Roon, looking very frightened 
and ashamed, was with him. 

“Tim has something to give you, Meg,” said 
Mr. Gordon. 

Silently Tim gave her her locket and Meg 
was so glad to get it back she thanked Tim as 
though he had found it for her. 

“If you don’t say anything about it, Meg 
won’t,” Mr. Gordon told him. “I don’t like 
Charlotte’s party to be disturbed and I would 
rather she did not know what a mean boy she 
has invited as a friend. Come, Meg, we’ll go 
back before they begin to wonder where you 
are.” 

Bobby had been looking for Meg and he was 
surprised to see her come in with Mr. Gordon. 
It was almost time to go home and after they 


i 62 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

had unwound the spider web of strings which 
brought them each a gift, the party was over. 

“I hope you’ll have a party every day in the 
year,” said Palmer Davis, trying to be very 
polite when he said good-bye to Mr. and Mrs. 
Gordon. 

‘‘That would give us a gay new year, if not 
a happy one, wouldn’t it?” Mrs. Gordon an- 
swered him laughingly. “Well, you should all 
be invited, my dears.” 


CHAPTER XIV 


DOT READS A STORY 

M eg told Bobby about her locket as they 
walked home and he was very indig- 
nant. 

‘‘Just let me catch that Tim Roon!” he said 
wrathfully. “He’s always trying to bother 
someone. I don’t believe you would ever have 
got your locket back if it hadn’t been for Mr. 
Gordon.” 

“Oh, Tim wouldn’t keep it — that would be 
stealing,” said Meg who liked to think the best 
of everyone. “He only wanted to tease me; I 
know he would have let me have it after a while. 
But I was afraid he would lose it or break it.” 

New Year’s Day was, of course, on Tuesday 
just a week after Christmas, and school was to 
open the next Monday. So Meg and Bobby de- 
termined to have all the fun they could before 
they had to go back to lessons. 

163 


164 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

‘^Mother, they say the skating on Blake’s pond 
is wonderful,” said Meg at breakfast the morn- 
ing after the party. ^‘Better than ever. The ice 
is eight feet thick!” 

“Now Meg,” protested Father Blossom, his 
eyes twinkling at her over the top of his paper, 
“are you sure it isn’t eight inches you mean?” 

“Well, maybe it is eight inches,” admitted 
Meg. “But that is thick, isn’t it. Daddy? And 
Bobby and I want to go this morning, because 
they say the high school crowd is going to skate 
all the afternoon and we couldn’t have much 
fun then.” 

Mother Blossom moved the sugar bowl away 
from Twaddles who seemed to want to pour 
sugar on his oatmeal, and said she had a ques- 
tion to ask Meg. 

“I’ve often wondered. Daughter,” said 
Mother Blossom, “who ^they’ are; you’re always 
quoting what ^they’ say, Meg, and yet you sel- 
dom use any names.” 

“They are — they are — well, I guess I mean 
everybody,” explained Meg. “Everybody says 
the skating is wonderful, Mother. You don’t 


Dot Reads a Story 165 

care if Bobby and I go this morning do you?” 

“Let Twaddles and me go?” said Dot eagerly. 
“Mother, can’t we go skating, too?” 

Father Blossom looked across the table at 
Mother, and laughed. 

“Now the argument begins,” he remarked 
whimsically. “A little more coffee, please, 
Norah, to fortify me.” 

“Oh, Mother, don’t let the twins go!” said 
Bobby hastily. “We can’t have a bit of fun with 
them around. They get in the way, and Twad- 
dles won’t stay off the pond, and they always 
want to come home before we do.” 

“I think you’re a mean boy!” stormed poor 
Twaddles. “You and Meg are selfish. You 
have all the fun — ^you went to a party yesterday 
and Dot and I didn’t go.” 

“No, but you had a party home with Mother,” 
Meg told him. “Norah said you had cocoanut 
layer cake and cocoa in the yellow pot.” 

“Yes, we had a lovely party,” said Mother 
Blossom cheerfully. “And twinnies, if you 
don’t go skating this morning, I’ll think of 
something pleasant for you to do in the house.” 


1 66 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

‘Tt’s a very cold day,” said Father Blossom, 
folding up his paper and taking his fur-lined 
gloves (which Santa Claus had brought him) 
from the window sill. “Quite too cold for any- 
one to go out who doesn’t have to. I don’t think 
Meg and Bobby will stay at the pond very long; 
and small folks like Dot and Twaddles mustn’t 
think of taking such a long walk.” 

“Oh, Daddy!” cried Dot, disappointment in 
her voice. 

“Oh, Dot!” said Father Blossom, kissing her. 
“Be a good girl, honey, and tonight when I 
come home, we’ll pop corn at the fireplace.” 

Sam brought the car around in a moment and 
took Father Blossom off to the busy foundry. 
Dot, with her nose pressed against the window 
pane, was trying not to cry when her attention 
was attracted by a farm wagon going slowly 
past. 

“What a lot of noise that wagon makes!” she 
said aloud. “Why doesn’t the man oil it the way 
Jud used to oil Aunt Polly’s wagons?” 

“That wagon doesn’t need oiling,” Norah an- 
swered. She was clearing the breakfast table 


Dot Reads a Story 167 

and had heard Dot’s remark. ‘Wagons always 
creak like that in cold weather. You can tell 
by that it’s a very cold day.” 

Bobby and Meg bundled up warmly and tak- 
ing their skates from the hall closet, hurried off 
to the pond. They promised Mother Blossom 
to come home the moment they felt cold. 

“The big boys will have a bonfire on the ice,” 
said Bobby. “We can warm our hands there, 
Mother.” 

“Don’t go near the fire unless there are older 
people around,” warned Mother Blossom. 
“You can’t always tell what a bonfire is going 
to do, Bobby.” 

As soon as Meg and Bobby were out of sight, 
the twins teased Mother Blossom to tell them 
what they could do. 

“You haven’t played school in a long time,” 
suggested Mother Blossom. “Or don’t you 
want to play school during the holidays?” 

“We’re tired of playing school,” objected 
Twaddles. 

“You mean you’re tired of the old way you 
play it,” said Mother Blossom. “I don’t be- 


i68 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

lieve you have ever played you were a college 
professor, have you, Twaddles? Take the old 
glasses and pretend you’re a professor like the 
ones who taught Daddy in college.” 

‘^But what’ll I do with Dot?” asked Twaddles 
anxiously. 

‘Why, Twaddles Blossom!” Mother Blossom 
pretended to scold. “Dot will go to college of 
course. Isn’t she going when she is a big girl? 
You may be the professor and Dot one of your 
students.” 

“But, Mother, I don’t know how to play col- 
lege,” said Twaddles. “Dot doesn’t, either. 
You tell us how.” 

Mother Blossom thought a moment. She was 
used to planning plays for the twins and even 
Meg and Bobby sometimes came and asked her 
to tell them “something to play.” 

“Why don’t you hold entrance examinations, 
Twaddles?” said Mother Blossom, after she 
had thought while the twim watched her anx- 
iously. “Play that Dot wants to come to college 
and you must try her out and see if she knows 
enough to come into your class. You might 


Dot Reads a Story 169 

read aloud for him, Dot, and pretend that he Is 
a professor of English.” 

So Twaddles and Dot ran up to the playroom 
and got out all the toys without which they 
thought they couldn’t play school. Twaddles 
put on the big spectacles that had no glasses in 
them — ^which were among his choicest posses- 
sions — and Dot sat down to read to him. 

Neither child could read, though they knew 
their alphabet fairly well. But Dot had an ex- 
cellent memory and knew many stories that had 
been read aloud to her, and now she opened a 
book and pretended to be reading from it to 
Twaddles. 

^^Begin,” said the professor kindly. 

“Once upon a time,” read Dot, “there was the 
nicest girl you ever saw. Her name was Cinder- 
ella. Her sisters were so mean to her she said 
T won’t stay with you any more’ and she ran 
away. They wouldn’t let her go skating with 
them,” added Dot, glancing up from her book 
at Professor Twaddles, who nodded to show he 
understpod. 

“Cinderella went on a ship across the ocean,” 


170 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

continued Dot, “and the ship was wrecked in the 
middle of the ocean and the wind blew her 
ashore. While she was blowing through the 
air she saw another person in the water and he 
was Robinson Crusoe. ^Catch hold of my sash,’ 
said Cinderella, ^and I will pull you ashore.’ 
And he did, and they both landed on a desert 
island,” and now Dot stopped to get her breath 
and see what effect the story was having on the 
professor. He was staring at her through his 
glasses in amazement. 

“Aren’t you mixing Cinderella up with an- 
other story?” he asked doubtfully. 

“That’s all right,” Dot answered airily. “I 
like different stories. Besides,” she added, “I’m 
reading to you from the book.” 

“Oh!” said the professor. “Excuse me; go 
on.” 

“As soon as Cinderella and Robinson Crusoe 
found they were on an island,” went on Dot, 
“they thought they would look around and see 
if anyone lived there they knew. They went 
to all the houses and rang the doorbells ” 

“How could they if it was a desert island?” 















a •'•' •i>>'> e» > 






s'- 


^ 5 ^ 


mmm 


Dot’s Wonderful Story 


Page lyc 











Dot Reads a Story 171 

interrupted Twaddles. “Nobody lives on a 
desert island.” 

“Well, they did on this one,” retorted Dot. 
“Cinderella was afraid to ring the doorbells, 
but Robinson Crusoe went right up and punched 
’em hard. And when the folks came to the door, 
if he didn’t know them, he said he hoped they 
would excuse him.” 

“I don’t believe they have doorbells, either,” 
murmured Professor Twaddles, but Dot paid 
no attention to him. She was determined to 
finish her story. 

“Pretty soon they came to a house,” she con- 
tinued, “where little Red Riding Hood lived. 
She was very glad to see them and when they 
asked her to take a walk, she said she would. 
And they walked and they walked, and by and 
by they came to a deep, dark forest.” 

Dot paused and shook her finger at the pro- 
fessor. 

“The Three Bears lived in that wood,” she 
said slowly. “And they came out to eat them 
up! The Big Bear said he would eat Cinder- 
ella and the Middle Bear was going to eat 


ii72 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

Robinson Crusoe and the Little Bear said he 
would eat little Red Riding Hood.” 

‘‘Did they?” asked Twaddles with interest. 
“No, they didn’t,” replied Dot. “There was 
a Fairy Tree at the edge of the wood and Jack 
the Giant Killer lived inside it. He heard the 
Three Bears talking and he jumped right out 
of that tree and killed them with his hatchet. 
And, after that, a ship came and got Cinderella 
and the others, too, and took them home. And 
they all lived happily ever after.” 


CHAPTER XV 


MR. BENNETT SHAKES HANDS 

B efore Professor Twaddles could say 
what he thought of this remarkable story, 
the bang of the front door sent him and Dot 
flying into the hall to see who had come. It was 
Bobby and Meg who had come home because of 
the cold. 

“Hardly anyone at the pond,” reported 
Bobby, blowing on his fingers and stamping up 
and down to warm his feet. “Let’s ask Mother 
if we may make candy.” 

The four little Blossoms enjoyed a grand 
taflfy pull, and in the afternoon they played 
“menagerie” in the playroom, using the animal 
suits left over from the play they had given a 
year before. 

The next morning Father Blossom said the 
weather was milder, and Meg and Bobby were 
eager to try the pond again. The twins begged 
so hard to be allowed to go, and promised so 
m 


174 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

eagerly to do everything they were asked to do, 
that it would have taken a harder-hearted 
brother and sister than Bobby and Meg to have 
refused them. 

“Maybe next year we’ll have skates,” said 
Twaddles as he pattered along, trying to keep up 
with Bobby. 

“Daddy was going to get you some for 
Christmas,” explained Bobby, “but Mother said 
next year would be better. You can watch Meg 
and me skate.” 

The pond was well filled this morning and 
most of Bobby’s and Meg’s friends were there. 
A blazing bonfire was burning down close to 
the edge of the pond and the girls sat around this 
to put on their skates. 

“You kids want to stay away from the fire,” 
said Stanley Reeves, skating up just as the four 
little Blossoms reached the pond. “And if I 
catch any boy taking a stick out to play with. 
I’ll paddle him with it, sure as you’re born!” 

Everyone laughed for Stanley was as good 
natured as he was tall — and he was the tallest 
boy in his class in high school. 


Mr. Bennett Shakes Hands 175 

“You think I’m fooling, but I mean it,” he 
said seriously. “Fire is nothing to play with.” 

“ ’Less you want to burn down a carpenter 
shop!” shouted Tim Roon. Then he skated 
away, with Fred Baldwin after him. 

“Don’t you mind him,” whispered Meg to 
Bobby, as they joined hands and struck out 
across the ice. “He just likes to be mean.” 

It did seem as though Tim liked to be mean. 
He and Charlie Black, instead of skating off 
with the others, hung around the edges of the 
pond and tried to tease the younger children 
who were amusing themselves by making slides 
on the ice. There were half a dozen who had 
no skates and these played with Twaddles and 
Dot. Left alone, they would have had a happy 
time, but Tim and Charlie continually tor- 
mented them. Finally when Tim put out his 
foot and tripped Morgan Smith, a boy about a 
year older than Twaddles, for the third time, 
that quick-tempered lad lost his last shred of 
patience. 

“I’ll fix you!” he shouted, and grabbing a long 
burning stick from the fire he started after Tim. 


176 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

The other children scattered and Morgan, his 
stick leaving a trail of fire behind him, was run- 
ning after Tim when Twaddles cried a warning. 

“Look out! Stanley’s coming!” he called. 

Morgan turned, but not quickly enough to 
throw the stick back in the fire. Stanley skated 
up to him and not even Mr. Carter, the twins 
thought, could look more severe than he did. 

“What do you mean, pulling a stick out of the 
fire like that?” demanded Stanley. “Don’t you 
know the little Davis girl was burned yesterday 
doing that? I’ve a good mind to spank you 
with that very stick.” 

This was too much for Twaddles, who saw 
Tim grinning on the edge of the crowd. 

“I think you ought to spank Tim Roon,” said 
Twaddles clearly. “He tripped Morgan three 
times and he won’t leave us alone.” 

“Is that so?” said Stanley. “Well, in that 
case I think I’ll excuse you, Morgan. But next 
time you leave fire alone. And Tim, I’ll attend 
to you if I hear you’ve been bothering children 
younger than yourself again.” 

Tim skated off muttering that “he guessed 


Mr. Bennett Shakes Hands 177 

Stanley Reeves didn’t own the whole pond.” 
Yet after that the children had their slide in 
peace. Bobby and Meg called the twins when 
the whistles blew at twelve o’clock and they 
went home to lunch. 

Mother Blossom said that no one should try 
to skate all day, so Meg and the twins stayed 
home in the afternoon. But Bobby was due at 
the dentist’s at three o’clock. His teeth needed 
cleaning only and he did not dread the visit to 
kind Dr. Ward. 

“Stop in the grocery, will you, Bobby,” said 
Norah as he was leaving the house. “And 
bring me a bottle of vanilla. I find I haven’t 
a drop in the bottle.” 

Bobby promised, and as soon as Dr. Ward 
had finished with him, he crossed over to the 
grocery store to get Norah’s vanilla. 

“Heard about the tramps?” asked the clerk 
who waited on him. 

Bobby asked what tramps and the clerk 
glanced at him curiously. 

“Thought you’d know all about it,” he said. 
“Why, the constable’s arrested two tramps he 


178 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

caught hanging around the railroad station. 
Guess they were waiting for a freight — there’s 
one goes through at two-thirty. They say one 
of ’em used to work for Bennett, the carpenter, 
and the other is a pal of his. Folks say they may 
know something about the fire at the shop last 
fall.” 

Bobby took the bottle of vanilla the clerk gave 
him and bolted out of the store without a word. 
He ran all the way home and burst into the 
house so breathless that he had to wait a minute 
before he could speak. 

“Where’s Mother?” he asked Norah, who 
came into the hall to get her vanilla. 

“Upstairs,” she answered. “What have you 
been doing, Bobby? Your face is as red as a 
beet.” 

Bobby dashed upstairs without answering, 
and met Meg in the upstairs hall. 

“Where’s Mother?” he asked again. 

“Up in the attic, hunting for some red flannel 
to make a new tongue for Dot’s teddy bear,” re- 
plied Meg. “What do you want, Bobby?” 

Bobby was already half way up the attic 


Mr. Bennett Shakes Hands 179 

stairs and Meg flew after him. Mother Blossom 
and the twins were looking over the contents of 
one of the rag bags in the middle of -the attic 
floor and they were surprised when Bobby 
rushed toward them crying, ^‘They’ve found the 
tramps, Mother! They ’rested two of them and 
one used to work for Mr. Bennett! The clerk 
in the grocery store says so !” 

“Why, Bobby!” said Mother Blossom, reach- 
ing up and pulling her “big boy” as she often 
called Bobby, into her lap. “Why, Bobby, dear! 
Tell me about it, quick.” 

Meg sat down on the floor to listen and Dot 
and Twaddles hung over Mother Blossom’s 
shoulder. 

“I don’t know much about it,” said Bobby 
excitedly. “But the grocery store clerk told me 
the constable arrested two tramps this afternoon. 
He said folks said they might know something 
about the fire. And Daddy said so that night.” 

“What night?” asked Dot curiously. 

“Oh — a night,” replied Bobby. The twins 
had never learned of his attempt to run away 
and he did not intend to tell them now. “Daddy 


:i8o Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

said he heard two tramps were seen hanging 
around the carpenter shop the afternoon before 
it burned.” 

“Ting-a-ling! Ting-a-ling!” the sound of the 
telephone bell came faintly up the attic stairs. 

“I’ll answer it!” cried Meg, jumping to her 
feet. 

“No, let me!” shouted Bobby, running after 
her. Mother Blossom ran, too, and so did Dot 
and Twaddles who thought this was all great 
fun. 

“Mr. Blossom wants to speak to you, ma’am,” 
said Norah, as Mother Blossom reached the 
first floor hall where the telephone was placed. 
“He says it’s important.” 

The four little Blossoms stood around expec- 
tantly and listened eagerly while Mother Blos- 
som said “Yes, Ralph,” and “No, indeed,” and 
“I’m so glad.” 

You know how one-sided a telephone conver- 
sation sounds. Finally Mother Blossom hung 
up the receiver. 

“Daddy says Mr. Baldwin telephoned him 
about the tramps and that he is going with him 


Mr. Bennett Shakes Hands i8il 

and Mr. Davis and Mr. Ashe to the recorder’s 
office right away,” said Mother Blossom. 
“Then, as soon as he has anything to tell us, he’ll 
come home and we shall know all there is to 
know.” 

You may imagine how the four little Blossoms 
glued their faces to the front windows to watch 
for Father Blossom, and what a racket they 
made when the car turned in the drive. They 
were out on the porch in a minute, dancing in 
the cold like four little wild Indians. 

“Come in, come in,” said Father Blossom 
laughing as they pounced upon him. “You are 
not little Eskimos, you know. Yes, Bobby, I’ll 
tell you everything in a minute. Let me get my 
gloves off. Don’t strangle me, Dot; I need my 
breath to talk with.” 

As soon as he was settled before the fire in 
the living-room, the four children sitting in a 
row on the hearth rug and Mother Blossom in 
her chair opposite, Father Blossom told them 
what he had learned that afternoon. 

“Mr. Baldwin telephoned me as soon as he 
heard of the arrest of the tramps,” said Father 


1 82 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

Blossom, ^‘and I came into town at once and met 
him and Mr. Davis and Mr. Ashe at Recorder 
Scott’s office. Mr. Bennett was also there. The 
tramps didn’t seem to be bad fellows only shift- 
less and careless. One of them had worked for 
Mr. Bennett several years ago. 

‘‘The recorder gave them an informal hearing 
and though vagrancy was the charge against 
them, he began to question them about where 
they had been and what towns they stopped in 
during the last few months. He surprised them 
into admitting that they were in Oak Hill 
around Thanksgiving time and though they de- 
nied they had been in the carpenter shop, he 
finally drove them into a corner and one of them 
owned up to having slept in the shop the night 
it burned. The man said they were cold and 
they found the shop window open and crawled 
in, meaning to stay till morning. They smoked 
a pipe or two and then went to sleep. The 
crackling of flames awoke them, and they found 
the shop on fire. Though they were terribly 
frightened, they were good enough to grope 
through the smoke and heat till they found the 


Mr. Bennett Shakes Hands 183 

cat and tossed her out of the window. Then 
they broke down the door and got out and ran 
for dear life. Naturally they were not anxious 
to be charged with setting the fire.” 

‘^But if they were seen around the shop, why 
weren’t they traced?” asked Mother Blossom. 
‘‘How could Mr. Bennett suspect five little 
boys?” 

“Oh, boys and mischief go together in some 
people’s minds,” said Father Blossom, smiling 
at Bobby. “And the tramps were sixty miles 
away before morning. They caught a fast 
freight out of town. But now everyone in Oak 
Hill knows who set the fire, for good news 
travels fast.” 

Bobby felt as though a great weight had been 
lifted from his mind. Back in his head, ever 
since the fire and Mr. Bennett’s charge that he 
and his chums were responsible, had been the 
question: “Does everyone think I did it?” 
Now he knew that everyone knew and, best of 
all, he could go back to school with no fear of 
being taunted with being a “fire-bug.” 


184 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

‘Will the tramps have to go to prison?” he 
asked Father Blossom that night. 

“No, not to prison, I think,” replied Father 
Blossom. “It will depend to some extent on 
Mr. Bennett. But no one can do wrong and 
not be punished, Bobby. Sooner or later, we 
have to pay for wrong doing and mistakes.” 

Saturday Meg and Bobby went together for 
the last afternoon of skating they could enjoy 
before school opened. The holidays were al- 
most over. Bobby had his skates on first and he 
and Fred and Palmer were racing across the 
pond to see who could reach the other side and 
be back before Meg should be ready, when 
Bobby heard his sister give a little cry. 

“Tim’s teasing her!” shouted Bobby angrily. 
“Just wait till I get him!” 

But Stanley Reeves had seen Tim skate up 
and take Meg’s mittens which lay on the ice 
beside her. He was a splendid skater, was 
Stanley, and he easily overtook the grinning 
Tim. 

“I owe you one licking, Tim, and now you’re 
going to get it,” said Stanley, dragging Tim 


Mr. Bennett Shakes Hands 185 

back to where Meg and Bobby and the other 
children stood. ^‘Hand over those mittens and 
say you’re sorry you took ’em!” 

Tim mumbled something that sounded like 
‘‘sorry.” 

“Ask him if he gave Bobby the coal for 
Christmas in school,” said Bertrand Ashe sud- 
denly. 

“Did you?” asked Stanley, shaking Tim as 
though he hoped by that method to shake the 
truth out of him. 

Tim nodded miserably. 

“Then say you’re sorry,” ordered Stanley and 
again Tim mumbled an apology. 

“All right. And here’s something to make you 
a better boy,” said Stanley turning the aston- 
ished Tim over his knee. And, being much 
older and a strong and athletic lad, he did 
manage to spank Tim thoroughly in spite of his 
shrieks and kicks. 

Tim fled as soon as he was released and for at 
least two weeks gave his schoolmates and teach- 
ers no trouble at all. As Stanley said, someone 


1 86 Four Little Blossoms Through the Holidays 

ought to spank him often enough and he would 
probably be a very good child. 

On their way home from the pond that after- 
noon, Bobby and Meg met the carpenter. 
Bobby had not seen Mr. Bennett since the day 
he accused him of setting fire to his shop. Now 
he stopped and held out his hand. 

‘‘Hope I know enough to say I was mistaken,” 
he said. “Will you shake hands, Bobby? I’m 
mighty sorry I blundered.” 

Bobby shook hands with a beaming face. All 
the way home he walked on air. 

“Everybody’s nice,” he announced at dinner 
that night, “when you know them.” 

And here let us say good-bye to the Four 
Little Blossoms. 


THE END 



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